Flashfire
by Nameless And Faceless
Summary: Set nearly a year after the Season 2 finale, Skye finds she is about to face a different kind of challenge.
1. Chapter 1

AN: This is set some time after, and consistently canon with, the season 2 finale. As such, you can expect it to become wildly AU as soon as Season 3 begins. It's been some time since I wrote any Fanfiction and I am new to this show so please bear with me if this isn't good or if I am a little off on the tone of the characters. Any feedback is welcome

Largely unnecessary disclaimer: I make no claim toward the intellectual property of anything within the Marvel Universe or the Agents of Shield Television Show nor do I have any intent or design to profit from this piece of fiction in any way.

It is to be posted on the purely for the enjoyment of its members and not anywhere else without my consent or the consent of an official of the owners of said property should they be so inclined (They won't.)

Now that that's out of the way, let's begin.

Wellington, Iowa.

"Get off my land!" Beatrice Hall shouted from the entrance of the large gray barn that had stood proudly on her small farm for generations.

A second later there was a crashing sound and one of the unhinged doors sailed through the air toward Skye who was forced to dive, once again, out of the way to avoid being crushed when that massive door smashed into the earth where she'd been standing only a second before. She rolled nimbly to her feet behind the relative safety of what had once been a pleasantly blue old pickup truck and braved a quick peek. There stood Beatrice, a middle-aged part time teacher at the local high school, proud mother and energetic member of Wellington's small community, angrily ripping the second half of the barn door off as it were made of paper mache instead of weighing hundreds of pounds.

"We're Agents of Shield!" Skye shouted, staying safely under cover. The woman was amazingly accurate with those projectiles and she didn't want to end up like her team. Not thirty feet away Deathlok was still struggling to escape from under the refrigerator that had smashed into him and pinned against the side of the farmhouse. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be! We know what you did at that bake sale, Mrs. Hall!"

"Third place!" the woman screamed and the remains of the pickup truck Skye was hiding behind shuddered against the impact of the second barn door slamming against it. "My Apple Crumble Surprise wins every year and suddenly I come in third! I know what you did! You know what the surprise is? Cinnamon!"

"I could use some help here!" Skye said urgently. Her ear-bud kept her in constant communication with the team, even when they were scattered like that moment. Risking another glance she saw Beatrice turning her attention back to Deathlok, who was only just managing to shove the heavy, and full, refrigerator, away. "Mrs. Hall, stay with me! How can Cinnamon be a surprise? Everyone puts that in their apple deserts!"

"Ooof! I… ugh! A Little Busy with her son!" May's voice was its usual flatly professional tone. Aside from the grunting, of course.

"I'm coming," Elena Santos' languid tone followed immediately. While May sounded like she was wrestling a bear, which wasn't far off given what Skye knew about Beatrice enormous son, Elena sounded like she was taking a quiet stroll along the beach with her feet in the water to the ankles.

"I'm up," Deathlok grumbled. "I'll engage and you circle around, try and get…. Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

Skye risked another look, her Night-Night gun at the ready despite the fact that she'd already plugged Beatrice twice and it had barely slowed the woman. "Are you freaking kidding me?" she asked in exasperation then raised her voice to shout. "Mrs. Hall, put down the cow!"

"You heard her, get off our land!" a shotgun blast ripped into the earth near Skye's feet. Skye rolled away desperately to get clear of the path of the blast, an action that unfortunately sent her back into Beatrice's line of sight. She cringed, waiting for the inevitable blow of something huge smashing her into a puddle but it never happened. Instead she heard the woman shout in alarm and the telling mechanical chiming of one of Deathlok's cybernetic weapons discharging.

Nigel Hall was already reloading from his perch at the front door of the farm house. Whatever had caused the drastic change in Beatrice and her son hadn't effected Mr. Hall but the man wasn't about to stand by and allow his family to be carted off by the government and that shotgun was a real enough danger for anyone. Skye lifted her gun and put a round of dendrotoxin into the man's chest and he tumbled back into the house, only his feet remaining in sight as he slumped to the hardwood floor of the pleasant little home.

Deathlok was struggling with Beatrice and was taking a beating in the process. The half-human cyborg that Skye knew as her friend Mike was the strongest individual Skye knew but he was barely managing to keep the thrashing, screaming woman within his bear-hug. Seeing her husband shot had the woman in a frenzy; she wasn't hearing any of his assurances that Mr. Hall wasn't dead.

"Anytime, Quell," Skye grumbled, firing another round into the woman when their thrashing gave her the opportunity. It didn't seem to slow the woman down and Skye once again promised to talk to fix about upgrading the Night-Night gun. A disturbing number of the disturbing number of powered individuals that had been appearing over the last year showed a disturbing resistance to their dendrotoxin. That was too much disturbing for Skye.

"I'm here!" Elena, or Quell as she'd been named when she joined the team, said brightly as she appeared from the other side of the barn.

A handsome woman in her thirties, Elena Santos looked like anything but a member of an elite group of powered agents of a clandestine organization. The sleek jumpsuit that looked so natural on Skye was bulky and awkward on Elena and the gun at her belt looked more like a Halloween prop then a weapon. Indeed, she looked more like she'd just woken up than like an agent in a life and death struggle with a family of crazed Inhumans. That was Elena though and her ability to look and sound like an agent wasn't why she was on the team.

"Hurry," Deathlok grunted, taking an elbow in the face.

"Sorry," Elena winced, patting him awkwardly on the shoulder and nearly catching an elbow herself in the process. "Are you okay? That looked painful."

"Hurry please!"

"Your ears," Quell reminded and Skye touched her ear-bud. Fitz had designed their ear pieces to emit a sound too high for the human ear to pick up but somehow able to negate the effects of Quell's power so when Elena began to hum soothingly in Beatrice's ear, all Skye heard was what sounded like a Spanish lullaby.

Beatrice heard something else entirely. What she heard Skye had no idea and wasn't curious enough to find out but Beatrice stilled immediately. The woman's red face went slack and passive and her shrieking recriminations faltered into silence. She began to rock and sway in Deathlok's embrace, almost like a child nestling into her father's shoulder. If that child's father had a shoulder attached to a rocket propelled missile launcher and was encased in steel and the child was a grown woman able to tear a barn apart with her bare hands.

That might not have been Skye's best simile.

"She'll sleep now," Quell smiled, reaching out to brush the woman's hair gently. "Poor thing."

"Poor thing?" Deathlok grunted. "She threw a cow at me!"

"Oh no!" Quell blinked, her eyes widening in worry. "Is the cow okay?"

"Guys!" Skye cut in before they could begin to bicker. "We have to go help May."

"I'm fine," May grumbled, emerging from the nearby cornfields. Behind her a mountain of a young man, complete in overalls, was walking sullenly. His hands were secured behind his back and he had the beginnings of what would be soon be one heck of a black eye.

May, for her part, was sporting a bloody nose. That was nothing new, though; May always had a bloody nose. Skye privately suspected that if May went a week without being punched in the nose she found a door to walk into to attain the properly ominous and impressive trickle of blood to maintain her battle hardened image. Not that she'd ever offer that opinion anywhere May might hear it, of course.

"Great," Skye said. "We got them all. Let's get them packaged for pickup and get out of here. Our next target is in Los Angeles."

"Not anymore," May said, shaking her captive when he tried to move closer to check on his unconscious parents. "Coulson just called. He wants us back at Gamma station right away."

That was news. For nearly a year Skye had been leading her team with little contact with the outside. They had their little base, if Gamma could be called that, and got a list of targets but they rarely dealt with Shield and rarely saw Coulson. She tried not let it bother her and had even gotten used it it after a rough few months. It made sense, after all. Coulson was needed to help rebuild the wreckage of Shield and she had an alarmingly large list of dangerous people to evaluate and either subdue as had just happened or investigate.

Skye hadn't even known Coulson was at the Station, the man had been increasingly absent over the past months as rumors had begun circulating about tensions among the avengers and the talk of the registration act had intensified.

Not that Skye wanted to think about that. That act would change her life, one way or another, and she'd been stonewalled at every turn when she tried to discover more. Maybe if Coulson was around he'd have some answers she could weasel out of him. Besides, it would be good to see him again.

"Good," she finally said. "I've been wanting to talk to him. Let's get back."

It was hours before they were back at Gamma, getting the prisoners sorted on the Bus and flying the massive mobile base of operations to Gamma's secure location in the hills of Kentucky. More than enough time for Skye's adrenaline to fade and for the ache and fatigue of the fight to set in, leaving her muscle wearing and limping from having wrenched her knee at some point. She was wincing as the group walked down the ramp into Gamma's spacious hangar and half-heartedly acknowledged the salute of a young technician.

"Agent Johnson," the boy said. She realized distantly that the young tech was probably only a year younger than she was but somehow he still seemed very much like a boy. Her experience with the team over the previous years had aged her in more ways than the simple physical, searing away most of the childish innocence she'd never realized she had until she felt it fade. "Agent Coulson asked to see Agent May. He asked me to tell you that he'd come find you soon."

"Skye," she corrected the boy. Daisy Johnson may the name she'd been born into but the truth was the name didn't resonate with her. When she heard it, she felt like she was hearing someone call out to a stranger. Mostly the name just brought up painful memories she'd worked hard to push away. Almost a year after the drama with her family and that pain was still raw enough that sometimes she just wanted to find a quiet corner and cry. "Just call me Skye."

"Yes, ma'am," the boy saluted again and she sighed, walking past. May was already gone, having taken Skye's momentary distraction as an opportunity to avoid the younger agent trying to tag along. Mike was walking off as well, muttering about cows and trying to ignore Elena who was tagging along chattering happily and completely unperturbed by his stoic quiet.

Abandoned, she tossed her bag in her tiny room and rejected the urge to crash face first into her comfortable cot. Instead wandered down two flights of stairs to the busy little hub that was Gamma's lab. Almost a dozen white coat clad scientists, none of whom ever bothered to speak to anyone not in white coat, bustled past her as they worked on whatever supposedly important research that had them so focused. They were background noise, as far as Skye was concerned, important in their own way but most just extensions of the person in the office on the other side of the lab.

"That's not what I'm saying," Mack's deep voice emerged from the back office.

"Then what?" Fitz asked in that rich accented tone, somehow caught between his customary polite cool and annoyance. "You want me to just abandon her? So I can work on your containment… containment…"

Skye knocked on the door mostly to give Fitz a moment. His condition had improved a lot but when he was upset or agitated he still sometimes lost track of his train of thought or found himself fishing for words or terms and she knew how much it frustrated him having people watch him fish like, even his friends. Besides that, she knew what they were arguing about and didn't think she could take listening to yet another argument about Jemma.

Her parents' fates weren't the only wound that still hurt.

"Hey," she said brightly. "Guess who's back?"

"Skye!" Fitz flashed a smile, his agitation with Mack disappearing. She grinned back at him and held up a hand, chuckling when he awkwardly slapped her palm. Her efforts to "cool him up" had met with very mixed results. "How did the mission go?"

"We got them," she hopped up on the spot of his work bench that was somehow always free when the rest of the bench was a debris field she couldn't make sense of. She suspected that he kept that spot open so she'd have a place to sit and talk. "Hey Mack."

"Skye," the big man nodded, turning to leave. "Good to see you. We'll work on these schematics later, turbo."

The air was chilly between Skye and Mack, a condition so common that she barely noticed it. Mack was a good man and she trusted him to have her back but the man had his issues with anything more than human and that included Skye. To his credit he tried hard to pretend otherwise but things would never be comfortable between them, not like they'd once been. She wasn't supposed to know it but she was a source of tension between Mack and Fitz.

"So, tell me about the mission," Fitz prodded her to scoot over a little so he could put away what looked to her like a metal basketball but was actually either something for her team or the world's most complicated taffy maker. Sometimes it was hard to tell until he turned the contraption on.

She reached across the table, not caring that she jostled him in doing so, and stole part of the half eaten sandwich that she knew had sitting there for longer than it should. As expected his eyes narrowed and he hastily ate the rest of the sandwich, knowing full well she'd eat the entire thing if he didn't. He didn't eat nearly enough, hadn't in too long. He didn't sleep either but she had no way of bullying him into that.

"Tell me," he prompted again around a mouthful and so she did.

It had, somewhere along the way, become something of a ritual. She's come back from a mission and drop by his office, fill him on where she'd been and what she'd done. Things had changed so fast and so drastically that for a time after she'd been made team leader she'd felt utterly lost. Everything was so different, even the people she'd worked with, that she'd had a hard time finding her footing in her new position of authority.

Mike was a valued and invested part of the team, someone she could count on and trust to do his job. He was her responsibility, though, and as much as she liked him he'd never been one to relax with. May was supportive in her own way, a constant source of strength to be counted on. She was only around p[art of the time, however, and when she was she made certain that Skye made every decision as if she didn't want to usurp the newly minted leader. Hunter and Bobbi were simply gone, they'd disappeared almost immediately after the reformation of Shield and all she'd been able to discover was that they were together on a mission for Nick Fury himself. Coulson was gone more than there doing the hard work of rebuilding Shield.

And Fitz had been… well, he'd been obsessed.

They'd discovered Jemma missing almost as soon as it had happened, even had video to show exactly what had happened. The trouble was that stone Jiaying (It was easier to think of her as Jiaying and not Mom) proved completely unresponsive and unchanging regardless of anything they'd done to try and get Jemma back. For months they'd worked, taken in the best minds that Shield had to offer and even brought in outsiders to consult. Fitz had gone weeks without sleep, even going so far as to invent a gadget that ran an electrical current through his body to keep him awake until he'd tiredly bumped into Mike and nearly killed the both of them.

They'd worked diligently, not resting or pausing and they hunted down any Inhuman that might have an answer. First for weeks, then for months, until every lead had run dry and they'd been left staring at a piece of rock that had somehow swallowed their friend. And slowly people had turned their attention to other things. No one said it aloud but more than one thought it.

Maybe Jemma wasn't going to be found. Maybe there was no more Jemma.

Not Fitz though. He worked to the exclusion of his other duties, to the exclusion of everything else. He studied fields he wasn't familiar with, fields that had always been Jemma's domain just to try new theories and approaches that might offer results. When that hadn't worked he'd tried wilder more dangerous things. He'd never lost faith that somehow, someway, he'd get Jemma back.

Then the call had been made to have the stone moved to a secure location and that had seemed to break something inside the thin young man. He was told he'd still be able to work the problem but that until he could offer substantive prove that he'd made progress he wouldn't be able to access the stone again. He'd been disconsolate, refusing to leave his lab and his work, convinced that everyone had given up on Simmons.

It had been Coulson that suggested Skye talk to him. He seemed to get that they were both lost, they both needed some kind of anchor. He'd sent Skye to talk to Fitz and while she'd been trying to talk him into dialing back a little to take care of himself, he'd shot back at her that she was more than just her job. It had become an argument but ultimately it had allowed them both to voice some deeply personal and ugly things they'd been keeping bottled up.

It was nice, being able to say those things to someone she knew wasn't going to judge her. Every vile thought about her lost mother and the father she'd only really gotten a glimpse of. How angry she was that the only memories she really had of either, that she'd ever have of either, were memories of them as monsters. She'd gotten glimpses of the people they might have been, the people they should have been, but nothing more than fleeting, broken glimpses.

What Fitz had told her about Simmons had broken her heart but she listened. On some level she got that he just needed to talk, the same as she did. So they talked and somewhere along the way she got her friend back. She got to have a person that looked at her and just saw his friend Skye. Not an agent. Not a leader. Not a monster.

She hadn't realized how much she needed that until she found it again. Being seen as nothing more than a person.

She saw the way some people looked at her when she put her gloves on. It was hard to miss. She may be an agent but she was always something else and they never forgot it.

She'd finally dragged him away from his obsession by convincing him that she needed his help. That had turned out to be a stroke of luck because he seemed to need a task he could accomplish after months of butting his head against failure after failure. A few days later he'd fixed their ear-buds to protect them from Quell's power, making her a much more useful and usable asset. The week after that he'd fixed a problem Deathlok had been having, providing a nonlethal alternative to the cyborgs deadly arsenal.

Friends. It was a good word, one she found she quite liked. She didn't have many.

So when she returned from a mission she went to visit him and perched on her spot on his desk and gave him all the details, even the painful and/or embarrassing ones. He'd sigh wistfully and tug at his damaged hand as if wishing he could join her. Then that look would pass and he'd tell her about his work, mostly about his latest theory on how to get into the stone, or how to discover what the stone was. His theories would grow wilder each visit and she'd know he was grasping, struggling to keep his faith alive.

Eventually he became an unofficial member of her team, so much so that he was sent a staff to deal with the projects he was asked to oversee for Mack or some other part of Shield. The work on the stone had become a strange hobby instead of an obsession. She never told him to stop, never called him silly for his search. The truth was she desperately wanted him to succeed. Thinking about Jemma being gone was enough to make her break down; it had on more than one occasion.

"You know, if you had a monkey," he began when she complained about the lack of surveillance on the Hall farm. She smirked, throwing a piece of bread at him, an act which was seemingly tantamount to dousing his work area with gasoline by the way he flew into a fussy fit and began cleaning.

"You should come out with us sometime," she said as he wiped down the counter. Another part of their little ritual. Fitz still wasn't well, he was too pale and his hair was too long, giving him a mildly mad scientist look. The look was so complete that she'd have teased him about it if it were so dangerously close to being true. "We need to get you some sun. You get any paler and you're going to start sparkling and making girls called Bella go all gooey."

"Maybe," he nodded, glancing at other desk in the room, the one that had his other work. "I just have a lot to do."

"Are you really going to make me beg?" she adopted a big eyed look, not above playing dirty. If she knew anything she knew that Fitz was powerless when it came to his friends asking for help. It was, in her opinion, one of his best features. That kind of loyalty was rare, especially in a world like theirs.

"Well, I suppose I could," he hedged. "I've been wanting to see the new jumpsuits in action. The new alloy is remarkable and I really should have a look at Mike's…." He trailed off, searching for the word.

It was hard not to try and help him when he struggled. At first she'd avoided being around him too much because it had hurt seeing her brilliant friend fumbling with his thoughts. When they'd started talking again, she'd tried to fill in the blanks and found that only made it worse. So when he trailed off, she reached over and picked up a helmet that she thought was supposed to attach to the basketball thing he'd put away.

"What's this?" she deliberately fumbled awkwardly with it.

"Hey!" he snatched it away. "Careful now, you'll ruin the modulation. I won't have you fumbling around that with your clumsy paws."

"Paws," she protested, holding up her gloved hands and wiggling her fingers. "These are hacker hands, buster. Clumsy hands don't get past the NSA firewalls, do they? Not that I ever did that, if anyone asks."

He looked around guiltily, as if one of the white coats was going to overhear and turn them both in. "Well," he finally sighed, holding the helmet out for her to take again. "I suppose there's no reason you shouldn't know. It's a neural mapper. Well, mostly. To start, I suppose. Really it's more of a neural remapper and-"

"Neural," she peered at it dubiously. "It maps your mind? Like a CAT scan?"

"Yes and no," he looked around again to make sure no one was listening then edged closer, picking up a roll of white paper, which he unrolled and placed over the helmet so she was clumsily holding both. "The mind, it's really nothing more than an extremely complicated mass of electrical signals. Our thoughts, our personality, everything that makes us what we are, it's all stored in those currents traveling along specific pathways in specific orders and at specific times. The way each current interacts with every one of the millions of others. You understand?"

"Let's pretend I do."

"Right, well, we store information. Not just some but every single bit of data we've ever received. It's all stored somewhere in your mind waiting to be accessed. Short term memory here, long term there, cognitive function here, communication there. Whether our conscious mind can call on that information is determined by this process so if a part of not receiving or sending, you might work around it. So if I learn how to remap those, I could-"

"Fitz, this sounds dangerous," she began, frowning at the image of a brain he'd unrolled for her. The brain was covered in colors, mostly blue and green but some much darker and others almost white. It didn't make any sense to her but she didn't need to be a scientist to figure it was his own head she was looking at.

"Somethings happening!" someone called form the other room. "On the news!"

Skye turned to the big monitor on Fitz's wall, using the keyboard beside her to turn it on and then pull up the news. The screen came to life and it turned out she didn't have to change the channel at all; every channel was the same. There was trouble in Washington D.C., some kind of violent conflict. Again.

"Is that Iron Man?" Fitz asked slowly, taking the roll of paper and the helmet from her. "And Captain America? What are they-? Are they fighting?"

"Oh my god," Skye breathed. "This is bad, Fitz. This is really bad."

They were fighting. Like actually fighting. Right there in front of the Washington monument. The reporter was talking over the live image, talking about the registration act; there'd been a surprise vote in congress and the senate both and it had passed.

The Registration Act passed and Captain America was fighting with Iron Man. The world had gone insane. It didn't make any sense at all.

"There are more arriving," Fitz put a hand on her shoulder. "They're all… Look, it's the Hulk!"

The room suddenly shook so violently that Fitz would have fallen if she hadn't caught him. A second later there was a second explosion somewhere deeper in the facility. The white coats outside were shouting and the alarm began to blare loudly.

"Attention!" Coulson's voice cut through the alarm. He sounded calm, as he always did when the world was going to hell. For a brief second Skye felt a fierce surge of affection for the man. Any storm, no matter what was happening, and Phil Coulson could be counted on to be thinking clearly and thinking about his people. "Flashfire. I repeat, Flashfire!"

"What's that? Where are those blasts coming from?" Fitz asked, looking around in confusion. He looked like he didn't know what he was supposed to do so he settled for gathering up some of his most precious items. "I don't know that protocol."

There was a lot of shouting in the distance and the sound of gunfire. "Fitz," Skye said, a sinking feeling in her stomach. "We have to go. We have to go right now."

"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly, pressing a weapon into her hands. Actually, he was handing her a number of items, an assortment of gadgets he was stuffing into a bag.

"Flashfire," she said weakly. "It's an order to go to ground. A last resort in case-" she cut off when a uniformed small group of men in dark combat suits charged into the lab outside and opened fire. Several of the scientists went down and the rest scattered amidst a whirlwind of screams and shouts from both groups. "We have to go!"

"There's one!" a voice shouted! "Take her down!"

Instinctively she lifted a hand and fired her weapon at the approaching commandos. Who they were, she couldn't say, but she had a sinking feeling in her stomach. She unloaded her clip and forced them to take cover but found herself shoved hard from behind by Fitz when she was stepping out to try and clear an escape route. A good thing he shoved her, too; a hail of bullets riddled his lab in an explosion of glass and metal an instant later.

"Who are they? They're trying to kill us!" he was on top of her and she shoved him off so she could get back to her feet, firing again.

"Not now! Are you okay?" she looked him over quickly to make sure he wasn't hit. "Are you hit?"

He grabbed something from the bag of goodies he'd just packed and threw it through the open door toward the enemy agents. "Cover your eyes!" he shouted, throwing an arm over both of them to shield them both a second before a blinding flash erupted and caught her unprepared. Her vision went white and she found herself on her knees rubbing furiously at her eyes.

"What did you do?" she mumbled dumbly, feeling him take her hand and drag her after him. She had no idea where they were going and stumbled several times over what she hoped weren't bodies. Dimly she heard voices groaning, the commandos had gotten the worst of whatever Fitz had thrown.

Fitz was shouting at the lab techs, extolling them to either flee or follow but Skye couldn't tell if they obeyed. Whatever his device had done her vision only started to fade after several terrifying moments of stop and go movement and the sounds of violent battle following them.

"Deathlok! Mike!" Fitz suddenly shouted, pulling her forward. By that point she was able to make out a few things through the ringing in her ears and the blur in her vision. They were in the hanger somehow. In the distance she saw a huge figure that she thought was Mike Peterson walking into a firestorm of bullets and agents. That's where Fitz was trying to take her.

"We have to go," Fitz was saying beneath the sound and fury of the battle. "I think I see-"

"Fitz!" Skye screamed, shoving him aside.

One of the dark fatigue wearing figures had turned to Fitz when he revealed himself and was lifting an automatic weapon, firing. Her hand lifted and power flooded through her, a quivering force In the pit of her stomach stretching forth and extending through her. It surged to her arm and out her fingertips in a wave of vibration that sent the gun wielding man flying. Not only him but the men behind him and a huge part of the hanger wall as well, which caused an entire section of the roof to collapse down in an explosion of dust and debris that left them both on the ground.

"Skye," Fitz said weakly a moment later when she was getting back to her feet. He was laying a few feet away clutching his arm, which was bleeding badly from a bullet wound. "Are they okay? I can't see anyone."

"Go," May's voice shouted from a great distance. "Flashfire!"

There were a lot of figures getting to their feet, most of them still holding automatic weapons. Skye knew if they were going to escape it had to be that second, once the enemy forces gathered themselves there would be no eluding them. So she did the only thing she could and gathered Fitz up, forcing him to lean on her.

"The others," he said weakly, most of his weight on her. Luckily he was very light and she was able to run with him leaning so hard against her.

"We can't," she said. "We have to go. We can't help them if we're dead. Stay with me, Fitz. Stay with me."

(No cows were injured in the writing of this story.)


	2. Miami

Miami, Florida.

Leo Fitz had been in some very uncomfortable situations over the course of his career with S.H.I.E.L.D. He'd done and seen things that he'd never imagined himself capable of. Despite the chorus of voices that had called him weak and bookish over his life, he thought he'd done well. He'd adapted to life outside the lab, managed to become something more than the lab geek he'd always been considered to be. In years of service he'd found himself in a thousand new and strange situations, each challenging him to come out of his admittedly shy shell.

Somehow none of that had prepared him for the situation he found himself in that moment. Sitting at an open café right off the water in South Beach with the sweltering morning sun burning overhead, he'd never felt quite as out place. Hordes of distractingly scantily clad people were walking the boardwalk, their skin bronzed and gleaming with a sheen of perspiration and oil. Everywhere he turned there were nearly naked beautiful people and each of them was a subtle reminder of how pale Fitz was, how his frame was skinny instead of lean.

Even his clothes were wrong. That morning he'd picked out a bright Hawaiian shirt, thinking it a keen disguise considering the location of the meeting. The problem was that the shirt, and the matching pale shorts he'd picked up at the same time, were glaringly bright and managed to make his arms and legs stand out starkly white in contrast. He was sure he was going to burn even with the thick layer of sunscreen he'd applied. Worse, he was getting a lot of amused looks from the locals.

He tried not to notice too much, mindful of the fact that he'd been trained and advised by some of the finest spies the world knew. He didn't have to look cool, being awkward was fine. The important thing was to be certain he looked like he belonged, to make sure he didn't stand out as foreign. The amused looks were brief and uninterested, sometimes a touch pitying. The exact looks some the locals would send some clueless tourist that didn't get the South Beach vibe.

In that, he fit right in. Or so he reminded himself when a small group of young women rollerblading along the boardwalk glanced his way and erupted into laughter.

To cover his embarrassment he turned his attention away from the people to the casually perfect little café and outdoor bar. He dabbed his forehead with a napkin, wondering how the people in Miami managed to get through the day without melting and was about to call for another ice water when he caught a glance of the TV over the bar. A picture of Tony Stark speaking to reporters flashed across the screen followed by a number of pictures of other people Fitz didn't know.

"Bartender," he spoke up, using his best American accent. "Turn that up please."

"Bunch of freaks," one of the guys loitering at the bar muttered when the volume turned up and they heard the reporter talking about the Registration Act. According to the reporter there'd been an outpouring of support from both Powered people and normal for the Act in the three weeks since it had been passed.

The scene showed a smiling young man waving at the camera as he was passed off to government scientists. It was propaganda, pure and simple. The same sort of images had been playing almost non-stop since Fitz had been forced to go on the run. In true modern media fashion, they were telling their own narrative of what was occurring in the world rather than spreading or even seeking the truth. No footage of the unwilling was shown, no hint of those forced to go underground. No film of the troubles afflicting the Avengers. Just an endless parade of passive, smiling faces marching themselves into government custody.

Fitz was fixated on the screen, watching as Tony Stark appeared again talking with his easy charm about safeguards to protect the public and civic responsibility. It was hard to reconcile that… politician, with the man Fitz had always thought of as Iron Man, a hero. Tony Stark was an inspiration to Fitz, an engineer and a scientist as well as a man of action. In his daydreams Fitz had always wanted to imagine himself in the same light. And there he was turning on his closest allies, betraying the people Fitz cared about.

"Beer," Hunter called out as he settled into the seat beside Fitz, making the younger man jump in surprise. "Good to see you, mate. Have to admit, I was surprised to get your call. Figured you'd be long gone."

"Thanks for coming," Fitz covered his embarrassment at being caught so off guard by ordering a water as well. They waited until their drinks arrived before speaking again.

"I can't stay long," Hunter said. "Things are tense back at the fort right now. I'm sure Bobbi and I are both being watched. She's dealing with our tail right now but it won't be long before they're on me again."

"I wouldn't have called if it weren't important," Fitz assured him.

"Not the first time I've had a meeting like this," Hunter shrugged, looking around and taking in Fitz's shirt with a wry smirk. "Quite a shirt, mate. You and Coulson shop in the same place, I assume."

"Have you heard from him?" Fitz got to the point. If Hunter only had a few minutes he had to take advantage.

"You haven't?" Hunter sounded surprised. "We assumed you were all together."

Fitz shook his head. "I haven't seen anyone since Gamma was attacked."

"Except Skye," Hunter put in. "Heard about Little Rock. Sounded like you two had a close call."

"We think it was the same people that attacked Gamma," Fitz frowned, recalling when he and Skye had been nearly cornered at the bus depot in Arkansas. "Do you have any idea who they are? Hydra?"

"I wish I could tell you," Hunter said. "I don't think it's Shield, if that's what you're wondering. What's left of Shield is focused on what's going on with the Avengers. Besides, they want Skye alive, not dead."

"Have you heard from anyone else? Do you know if they're okay?" Fitz pressed.

"Fitz, you shouldn't be thinking about reconnecting with anyone else right now," Hunter frowned. "Didn't you hear me? They want Skye. She's Powered and they know it. They won't stop hunting you and if you're with her you're going to get hurt. Bringing in fugitives is all anyone is focused on. You need to be thinking about getting out of here before the net tightens. Both of you."

"What about the others?" Fitz repeated, trying not to let his annoyance show. He told himself that Hunter was just looking out for him but Fitz had spent weeks worrying about the other members of the team, not knowing if anyone was hurt or even dead. The worry and doubt that had been tying his stomach in knots left little room for patience. When Skye had finally managed to track down Bobbi and Hunter it had been all Fitz could do not to shout for joy. Finally they had someone on the inside, someone who could answer some questions.

"Mack is okay, I saw him two days ago. If Coulson and May aren't with you, they're probably with Captain America. Last I heard Deathlok and Quell made it out," Hunter supplied. "Shield lost their trail somewhere in South America. Peru, I think."

"Peru?"

"Maybe you should head that way," Hunter nodded.

"Are you sure?" Fitz frowned. "Because we heard-"

"Mate, you're not hearing me," Hunter leaned forward, pinning Fitz with his gaze. "They assigned an operative to bring Skye in. We tried to find out who but they don't trust us. Shield knows what Skye can do though. They're going to send someone they know can handle the situation. You two need to get out of the States, find a dark place to hide until things settle down. We'll send up a signal when things are better."

"It isn't just Skye," Fitz frowned. "We're a team."

"You need to go, Fitz," Hunter shook his head. "Things are getting worse. Right now there are people inside still fighting for you but it seems like every day there are new Inhumans causing destruction and chaos. Everyday they're bringing in new threats and the agents are starting to wonder if maybe Stark is right. Maybe the world is too dangerous to let people just run free. It's not being reported but there have been incidents. People are afraid. Crowds are turning ugly, there have been attacks on known friendlies."

"If that's true then all the more reason to stay," Fitz insisted. "At least until we know everyone is safe. You'll keep looking, won't you? Coulson wouldn't just abandon us. If he's not reaching out to us, there's something wrong."

"I have to go," Hunter stood. He nodded to the heavy bag he'd brought with him. "That's everything I could find. And yes, we'll keep looking."

"Wait," Fitz rose as well, picking up the bag with a grunt. "Did you find out where…"

"I'm sorry," Hunter shook his head, putting a hand on Fitz's shoulder briefly. "The stone is gone. The storage facility was hit the same day your base was. Think about what I said, Fitz. South America."

Before Fitz could ask him anything more about the stone that had taken Jemma, Hunter stepped into the crowd and disappeared. Fitz staring after him in frustration. He hadn't expected much; Skye had warned him they wouldn't get much help from Hunter or Mockingbird, they were running their own operation and weren't going to compromise it. He had hoped for something, though. Some kernel of a hint that might lead Fitz and Skye to a better place.

There was nothing to be done but pay the bill, collect the heavy duffle bag Hunter had left him, and slip into the mass of people walking the boardwalk as well. Mindful of what Skye had told him when she'd prepped him for the meeting, he walked slowly and checked carefully for any sign of being followed. Though he was reasonably sure he wasn't being tailed, the sensation of paranoia was thick in the air after weeks of being on the run and he knew that he wasn't in a position to pick a trainer operative out of the crowd.

"You're clear," Skye said into his ear-bud. "No one following you."

"How did it go?" he asked, looking around like he imagined a wide eyed tourist would. She was out there somewhere, just another sun bathing beauty risking skin cancer for a darker skin tone. He didn't see her but the entire meeting had been more bearable just knowing she was nearby watching his back. He trusted Hunter but who knew who might have followed the man.

"It worked," she sounded pleased and distracted. "Good work keeping him there. I hacked his comms and embedded a virus. When he makes contact the virus will make its way into Shield's systems and I'll have a backdoor."

"Are you sure we couldn't have told him?" he sighed. "It feels wrong lying to him."

"You mean like he lied to you?" she asked. She sounded guilty though. "We can't take the chance, Fitz. You remember what Bobbi and Mack did last year. Whatever their reasons, they spent a long time lying to us. Lying to each other. Even if we could trust Hunter, we don't know if we can trust Bobbi. It's better this way."

"At least Mike and Elena got out," he said, turning the corner to wander along the outdoor market that stretched up the street. "Oh, shirts. These are nice."

"What's wrong with your shirt?" Skye laughed in his ear. "A man willing to take those bold fashion risks is sexy."

"Thanks for that," he mumbled, then flushed when the man behind the little cart gave him an odd look.

"I'll see you back at the room," Skye said in parting.

"An hour," he agreed. They'd already determined that he would wait a while before returning to their motel room, just in case.

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(.Scene Break.)

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Skye was already camped on the bed with her laptop when Fitz returned to the room. After Little Rock they'd decided that separating was too risky so they'd started sharing a single room. Even after sharing the confined habitat of the Bus for so long, being crammed into a tight a space with another person was an eye opener. One had to adjust quickly to avoid the inevitable stepping on each other toes, to adjust to the other person and look hard for ways to give each other space both physically and mentally. Fitz learned to bury himself in his work, limited though it was to the few things he'd rescued from gamma.

For Skye, her laptop was her escape. The sight of her hunched over her sleek laptop with her brow slightly furrowed and her lip being gently chewed was one Fitz grew to know quite well over the previous weeks. The sound of her quiet, rhythmic typing became a kind of white noise for him as he worked, an almost peaceful sound of reassurance that he was not, in fact, alone.

"Hey, look at this," she said without looking up. The gun in her hand was set aside in favor of waving him over. "It's already working. I'm in. See this? Hunter lied, he knows where the stone is. Stark Industries assumed possession of it along with a shipment of other things deemed too dangerous."

"I can't say I'm surprised," he muttered. "He probably thinks he's protecting us, sending us away."

He moved to peek over her shoulder but the screen was flashing with lines of bewildering code. Worse, windows were opening and closing faster than his eye cold track as she delved through Shields's files. Instead of pretending he knew what she was doing he set Hunter's gift bag aside and opened the small paper bag he'd picked up in the market. The bowl of fruit he produced was set on the bed beside Skye and he retreated to the small rooms only chair, which served double duty as his work place and bed, to eat his own breakfast.

"This is insane," Skye muttered, distractedly eating a piece of kiwi. "The Avengers are split right down the middle. Half of them are hiding with Captain America and the rest are hunting down any Powered threat they can find. It's spreading, too. Hunter was right about that. There are almost a hundred incidents that I can see. A hundred different incidents all over North America. I haven't even gotten to Europe yet."

"Remember what we said," he reminded. "Everything that's happening, it's bigger than us. It's God's and AI's and the bloody Hulk. If we let ourselves get caught up in all that, we'll be swept along and no one will be left to look after our people. We need to focus on what we can control. Finding the team, getting that stone back."

"Coulson and May are with Captain America," she reported, flashing him a brief smile to tell him she heard and agreed. "There's a report of them in Los Angeles last week with Falcon."

"There's some good news," he nodded. "It's only a matter of time before they leave a message at one of the drop sites."

She gave reports as she worked, tossing out nuggets of information she found pertinent to their situation or that she thought he'd find interesting. Not wanting to distract her, he didn't respond much unless she was directly asking for his input. Skye liked to use him as a sounding board for her own thoughts, she tended to talk through her problems. That said, he knew she had very limited time. When they'd conceived their plan she'd been clear that her backdoor would only give her limited access before Shield discovered her. So instead of talking he ate quickly then began packing their things o they could move as soon as she was ready.

"Colorado," she said as he stuffed his clothes into a dufflebag. "That's where the secure storage is."

"Good," he beamed. "Now we just need to make a plan."

"Fitz."

"First things first, we need new identities," he continued, like she hadn't spoken. "You said your friend from the Rising Tide could help with that. Then we need to find a way to get to Colorado. I think we can agree that the bus is not a good idea."

"Fitz."

"When we get to Colorado, we can formulate a plan to get inside the-"

"Fitz!"

"Skye, I know what you're going to say and just don't."

"I think it's time we split up."

"Skye."

"No, hear me out," she said determinedly. "You heard Hunter, they're hunting me. Not us, me! I don't know what I'd do with myself if you got hurt because of-"

"Skye."

"So we split up. It makes sense. You go to Colorado and I'll head in another direction, draw away any attention. Then you can-"

"Skye!"

"No, I'm not going to let you get hurt because of me!"

"And I'm not going to let someone I care about get hurt! Not again!" Fitz raised his voice, frustrated. He'd known this was coming, had seen it in Skye's eyes ever since Little Rock. She was a runner, it was just a part of who she was. When things turned south she instinctively sought to protect herself by getting distance. "Skye, this isn't happening. We aren't separating."

"You can get your life back, Fitz. You don't have to live like this."

"This isn't a choice, Skye. Can't you understand that? If you weren't with me I'd still be out here. The only difference is I'd be looking for you as well as the others. You're my friend. I care about you and I am not going to let those bastards hunt you." Agitated, he began to pace.

"This is wrong, what they're doing is wrong. You are a hero, Skye. A bloody hero. I'm not going anywhere and I won't hear any talk otherwise." He joined her on the bed and took her hands, forcing her to turn to face him. He hoped that she'd see how serious he was and put this separation talk to rest.

"I am not leaving," he said flatly. "It would kill me if you got hurt. They aren't hunting you, they're hunting us. And if they think otherwise they're fools."

There was silence as she struggled with herself. It was clear that she was worried about him and he appreciated it deeply. Only Jemma had ever cared like that. The truth was that the way Skye worried about his well-being only solidified his determination to stay with her and protect her. She deserved to have her loyalty returned. She deserved to have someone looking out for her the way she tried so hard to look out for others.

And he wasn't going to let someone else he cared about be hurt. He'd let Jemma be taken. He'd die before he let anyone take Skye.

Then she was wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Without a word she ceded the fight to him and agreed that they were better as a team, that the two of them sticking together was the only option. A heavy weight slide off of Fitz's narrow shoulders and he hugged her back. He was desperately glad that she'd come to him about her concerns; he'd spent more than one night awake because he feared she'd slip off in the night for his own good.

Her hair tickled his nose as she put her head into his shoulder. He patted her shoulder in response, so relieved that he didn't even mind when her juice bowl tipped over and spilled onto his shorts. When she began to shake slightly in his arms he thought she might be crying and started to pull back.

His fears were allayed a second later when she hugged him tighter and spoke with laughter in her voice. "You just cursed, Fitz. Twice!"

"I did not… Oh, hell I did," he admitted sheepishly.

"I warned you I'd bring out the cool kid in you," she teased.

Something shifted and Fitz was suddenly very, very aware of the fact that Skye was still wearing nothing but the dark one piece bathing suit and sarong she'd put on for the beach. For the first time since his brief and embarrassing crush when they'd first met he found himself aware of the fact that she was more than just his friend. Skye was beautiful, there was no denying it. Somehow he'd pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind in favor of thoughts of Jemma but he was quite suddenly and shocking remembering how attracted to her he'd always been.

She must has sensed the change in him because her relaxed posture tensed ever so slightly. He half expected her to pull away. He almost hoped she would, that she'd pretend nothing happened and they could go back to the comfortable footing of their friendship. Instead she remained there, hugging him a while longer. When they drew back, they shared a quiet laugh a quiet laugh that was somehow awkward and… not.

"I should finish this. They'll find me digging through their files before much longer," she mumbled, clearing her throat.

"Right, I'm going to shower and change," he nodded.

He hurriedly got off the bed, trying not to think about how acutely he could still feel the warmth of her on his skin. He knew he was blushing a deep red and silently thanked her for not mentioning it as he all but fled into the bathroom. When the door closed securely behind him, he jumped into the shower and tried to take his mind off of the odd moment he'd just shared with Skye. He'd probably imagined it anyway; Skye hadn't ever shown any interest in him.

Besides, the last thing either of them needed were any more complications. As it was they were barely keeping their heads above water.

Worse than that, the enormous and unanswered question of Jemma loomed and made him feel queer and wrong. Guilty. He hadn't done anything wrong, far from it, but there was a niggling seed of guilt working its way through his stomach that he didn't like and didn't understand.

He loved Jemma. There was no question of it in his mind. She was and always would be an essential part of him.

The trouble was they'd apart and at odds for more than a year then only just reconnected before she was taken. A year of her being simply gone and while he didn't believe she was dead, he refused to give up on her like that, every day that passed made her feel more distant. A part of him felt like she was a cherished memory rather than the real and warm presence that she'd always been in his life.

The ache of her being gone was a hurt that ran bone deep, something he wasn't going to ever get past. He didn't want to get past the pain, as if feeling the ache kept her with him and still a part of his life instead of just a lovely person he'd once loved. He missed her.

He cared about Skye too. She was a friend when he desperately needed one but she was more than that. Over the last year she'd been the only person that he'd felt comfortable around and he wasn't ashamed to admit that she was probably the reason he hadn't gone insane looking for Jemma. She was… Skye. Whatever that meant, it meant something to him.

He just needed to figure out what exactly that was. Someday.

Maybe it was something he could push aside until they didn't have the law enforcement of every national and international agency on the planet chasing them. That might be a good idea. Plenty of time later to distract himself with worry over what would certainly amount to nothing anyway.

That was settled then. He just wouldn't think about Skye for a while and he'd be just fine.

"Fitz!" the bathroom door rattled as Skye's small fist rapped sharply and she called. "Get out here!"

Irrational panic was his first reaction, for a brief second he was certain that they'd been found and dozens of agents would were in that very second storming into their motel room. He only just saved himself the embarrassment of charging out of the bathroom in his skivvies by realizing she wouldn't have knocked if that were the case. Heart pounding, he threw on some modest clothes, what Skye called "blending in digs" and stuffed his bright Hawaiian shirt and shorts into his bag. He wasn't supposed to take them but he did anyway.

"What's wrong?" he asked when he emerged from the bathroom, finding her perched over her laptop on the bed once again.

"We have a problem," she looked deadly serious. "Hunter lied. Mike and Elena didn't escape. Fitz, they were captured. They're in a holding facility in Boston."

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(.Scene Break.)

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Club Concord was dark, hot, and sweaty. It was filled with smoke and strobe lights that covered every color in the spectrum, all flashing erratically as if dancing to the throbbing electronic sound of industrial techno music. It was claustrophobically packed with people gyrating on three different dance floors and milling about two large bars on two separate floors. Situated ideally in South Beach, it had a line around the corner and it wasn't even nine in the evening.

The music was, in Fitz's opinion, bloody awful. Dance Techno, that's what Skye called it. She loved it and he recognized it as frequently leaking from her headphones when she worked. To him it sounded a little like someone let a room full of hyperactive infants loose on poorly tuned keyboards. Though he wasn't actually sure if keyboards needed tuning.

He made a note to ask Skye about that sometime when his head wasn't in danger of splitting from the noise.

"Isn't this great?" Skye asked excitedly over the music. "You can feel the music down in your bones! So powerful."

"It's great," he said weakly. "Who needs to hear anyway, right?"

"What?" Skye looked back at him.

Instead of replying he gave her a thumbs up and a smile and she grinned back, waving for him to follow her as she wound her way through the packed crowd. He was forced to shoulder his way past group after group of people loitering near the sporadically spaced tables, a bruising and uncomfortable process. She was like a ghost though, completely in her element as she breezed through the crowd without any trouble at all. Eventually she was forced to come back for him and grab his hand, physically dragging him after her.

"We have to hurry," she said over her shoulder. "Carter's here but I have no idea for how long. He likes to club hop."

"Do you see him?" Fitz asked, wondering if anyone would notice if he slipped some earplugs in.

"There!" she bounced, pointing. "Come on."

"You go," he waved. "I'll watch. I… I want a drink."

"Not to many," she rolled her eyes, teasing because everyone knew Fitz wasn't a drinker. "After I get our new IDs we've got a plane to catch."

"Boston," he nodded. "Go, I'll be fine here."

And like that she was gone, eventually reappearing at one of the back tables talking to a group of people that all knew her from the series of hugs and smiles she got. He watched for a while as she charmed the group, amazed at how comfortable she was. The Skye he knew ranged from happy and funny to deadly serious and sometimes terribly sad. Seeing her looking and acting like a carefree young woman was new.

It suited her. Fitz didn't think she had a lot of that in her future, all things considered. Even if everything worked out and they rescued their teammates, the Registration Act had all but ensured that Skye would never be carefree again. She'd always someone watching, someone seeking her. It wasn't right.

"A drink, sweety?" his vision suddenly filled with an impatient waitress.

"Pardon?" Fitz blinked, realizing he'd been staring and was lost in thought. He flushed, embarrassed at being caught and shook his head to clear it. The place was so loud and the lights so distracting, it was hard to focus.

"Can I get you a drink?" the waitress repeated, rolling her eyes.

"Oh," he blinked again, feeling the malaise in his thoughts returning. He'd been managing it over their time on the run aside from a few notable incidents. Indeed, he'd been doing so well he'd almost convinced himself he was better. His hand still wouldn't function as it should but he'd felt like something close to normal.

In retrospect considering the stress he'd been under and the lack of sleep, it was only a matter of time before his mind would rebel. He needed to keep it together, though, needed to ignore the lights and screeching sound, the push of bodies and the clingy heat of the club. It was too much. Alone, he felt it all pushing in on him.

He felt himself slipping, the light and sound being pushed away as his thoughts became muffled and abstract. Disoriented, he frowned in confusion at the strange woman frowning at him. She was speaking but he couldn't make out what she was saying because of the jarring noise.

"What?" he asked slowly, growing more confused and wondering exactly where he was. He was on a mission, wasn't he? Where was his lab? Why was it so loud?

"If you aren't drinking, you need to move," the woman demanded. "Now what do you want?"

"Drinking…" he said slowly. He had to squint to see her through the smoke and light. Was she an agent? Was he in some kind of simulation? Where was Jemma?

"That's it," the woman snapped. "I'm calling security."

"Hey! Relax, we're leaving," Skye was there, looking so furious that the irate woman muttered something under breath and walked off. Then Skye turned to Fitz and he almost hugged her he was so relieved to see a familiar face. She looked up at him, concerned. "You okay?"

"I… there was a… I forgot that…" he tried to explain.

Recognition dawned in her eyes and she bite her lip guiltily like she was somehow responsible for hurting him, which was absurd. She was Skye, his friend. She'd never hurt him. A memory stirred of Skye pulling him through a hanger while he was bleeding and leaning heavily against her. She'd saved him. He was almost sure of it.

"Come with me," she said gently, taking his hand. "Let's get you somewhere quiet so you can relax. We have a plane to catch."

"Boston," he muttered, though he wasn't quite sure why.

"That's right," she nodded, tugging his hand so he'd follow.

"Is that where Jemma is?" He asked, following her as she led him out of the unpleasant place. Her hand tightened around his as he asked that and he frowned, realizing he'd asked something wrong. She kept hold of Fitz like she was afraid he'd wandered off and lifted a hand to whistle down a cab.

"I remember now," he mumbled. "Sorry."

He did remember, a little. Jemma wasn't in Boston. She was… she was… Where was Jemma?

They were both so distracted with his condition that neither of them looked up as they got into the back of the cab and Skye ordered the driver to take them to the airport. Had they been more alert one of them might have noticed that not everyone seemed to be enjoying the atmosphere of the popular nightclub.

One person in particular ignored the music and the people completely as they exited just in time to watch Fitz and Skye drive off. That person watched them with a cool, bland gaze devoid of animosity or even much interest. The sort of gaze a person might offer while evaluating the possibility of a stray dog urinating on their shoe. The eyes of a person that felt no empathy, no regard for the lives and value of their prey.

And when Skye and Fitz drove off, a second cab was called and told to follow.


	3. Boston

_A.N. Just wanted to thank those of you that have shown an interest in this story. I was really on the fence about posting anything at all and it's really nice to know that some people are enjoying it._

 _As a side note, there is a university featured in this chapter. It's roughly based on an actual university and I'm sure you'll be able to tell which but i wasn't sure about the legality of actually using it's named so I decided to go with a fictional representation._

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Boston, Mass.

Alice Montgomery was the head clerk of Braxton University, a position she'd held for nearly two decades. She loved Braxton passionately; one might say she had was obsessive about her loyalty to the great institution. Her husband often claimed that she bled crimson and gray and as often as she chastised him for the gross imagery, Alice privately thought he might be right. She'd met him when they'd both been undergraduate students at Braxton, had her children as an employee and proudly sent two daughters to study as well. Everything good in Alice's life was tinted with Braxton colors.

Owing to that love she took special care in choosing the people she allowed the honor of working for her. The staff of Braxton weren't just employees, they were custodians of a sacred duty; their charge to aid the bright young minds attending the university in making their way through the complicated and often intimidating reality of being at college for the first time. Alice didn't allow just anyone to take on that responsibility; she only hired people she had the proper feeling about. She had a knack for finding just the right people, too, people that believed as she did and wanted to ensure that the institution continued to be the finest center of higher learning available.

Which is why she was so surprised when she found her newest employee rooting through a box in one of the many file rooms in the basement of Braxton's administration building. All files were maintained digitally but hard copies were necessary and Alice believed in being meticulous in maintaining the school's records so there were eight different storage areas set neatly out of the way for just that purpose. They were small and well maintained by the janitorial staff but saw almost no traffic beyond the occasional trip to add new material.

Yet there were five more boxes pulled down from the shelves and opened, clear evidence that her new employee had been riffling through the files. A quick check of the labels on the boxes assured Alice that no personal information had been compromised, nor anything financial accessed. In fact, she was a little confused as to why anyone would want into these boxes at all. Nothing sensitive was stored in this particular room except for some old architectural blueprints that were mostly out of date.

"What's this?" She asked crisply, startling the young woman into jumping away from the box she was hunched over. "I don't think you'll find the coffee I asked for down here, Grace."

"Miss Montgomery!" Grace blinked guiltily. She was a lovely young woman, dark olive skin and almond shaped eyes behind a pair of thin glasses. Her hair pulled back in a messy pony tail and casually dressed in jeans and a dark shirt, she could have been any one of the thousands of students attending Braxton. A third year art student working part time to supplement her scholarship, Grace had an honest face and up to that moment she'd been working out wonderfully in Alice's opinion.

"Would you care to explain, dear?" Alice said dryly, stepping into the room and taking the dusty blueprint hanging accusingly from Grace's grip. "The steam tunnels? What on earth are you doing with this?"

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Montgomery," Grace flushed, biting her lip. "I was…"

"You were?" Alice smiled. "First, I've already told you to call me Alice. When you call me Mrs. Montgomery I feel ancient and I don't need that. Now, why are you down here? Investigating the legend of the steam tunnels, are you? You aren't the first, dear. Definitely the first to try this approach though."

"I…," Grace managed a weak grin. "My… My boyfriend is interested. He told me that there are tunnels networking beneath the entire campus and I just wanted to see if I could find the plans to show him. He loves that sort of thing."

Alice pursed her lips thoughtfully but inwardly she was more than a little amused. Grace reminded Alice so much of her youngest daughter, a complete mixture of warmth and rebellion all rolled up in a bundle of energy and voracious appetite for life. Not a week went by when that girl wasn't falling in love or getting into trouble, more often than not both. It had been an adventure watching her grow up into a headstrong and passionate woman she'd become, one Alice missed.

"Well," she confided, smiling to let the younger woman know she wasn't too cross. "He wasn't wrong. They built the first steam tunnels back in the thirties and expanded them over the following decades. Legend has it that there are entire tribes of monstrous mole people living down there. Or maybe ghosts. The legend changes now and then."

Grace laughed a little, seeming relieved. "This place is great," she said. "I just wanted a peek and I got a little sidetracked."

"This is where we keep the original blueprints," Alice nodded proudly. "The entire university is here, the beating heart of it all. You know you can find all of this in our computers though."

"Oh I tried but most of the plans were different, even from each other," Grace admitted. "That's why I came down here, I wanted to find the originals to update the files so they all matched."

"Well, I like your initiative," Alice approved. "I think it will have to wait, though. It's time we got back upstairs. I came to find you because your shift is up."

"Oh!" Grace grinned, helping to put the boxes away. "I don't mind, Miss… Alice. I can stay and..."

"It's fine, dear," Alice smiled. "I won't hear another word about it. I know its finals week. You should be studying, not buried in a dusty storage room. My goodness, look at that. I'll have to speak to the staff about coming in here more often.

"Okay," Grace said sheepishly. "I'm sorry again."

"It's nothing," Alice chuckled. "I was curious myself at your age. Got into more trouble than I care to remember, more often than not on account of some boy. Is this one worth it?"

Grace grinned wider, a wicked humor touching her dark eyes. She and Alice left the room and Alice locked it behind them. "Oh, he's something different. Can I get you that coffee before I go?"

Alice laughed. "That was nearly an hour ago, dear. I've had two cups since. You just go on home and get to studying. I won't have any of my people failing out. Education first."

"Okay, Alice," Grace smiled. "I'll do better tomorrow, I promise."

"I know you will, dear," Alice nodded reassuringly. "Now go on with you."

.

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(.Scene Break.)

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Skye groaned as she was all but escorted out of the administrative building by Alice Montgomery. The matronly woman was a kind soul but she had Skye on the verge of screaming in frustration. A week she'd been working in Braxton's administration building trying to get into that storage room and access those files only to be interrupted a moment after finding the first of the blueprints she needed. An entire week wasted fetching coffee and filing and listening to a litany of stories about the glory of Braxton while the world was falling apart beyond the comfortable confines of the campus.

Who knew when she'd be able to get in there again? They didn't have time for Skye to be making rookie mistakes.

"See you tomorrow, Grace," Alice waved from the doorway. "Study hard, dear."

"Thank you, Alice," Skye waved back.

She wasn't annoyed with Alice, who'd been nothing but kind to Skye. Given Skye's hastily crafted credentials as a legacy of the college and a third year undergrad, Alice had been only too happy to take "Grace" under her wing and offer her a part time job. Chatting excitedly about her own daughters attending Braxton and Alice's hopes that someday her grandchildren might as well, the older woman had made the workplace a welcoming environment. Had Skye actually been a student looking to earn some each money, she'd have cherished the job.

She wasn't, though. She had a mission and she needed to get her hands on those blueprints if she wanted any hope of getting to her people.

"Argh," Skye groaned.

With no other option she walked through the open concrete and manicured lawn that formed the pathways of the campus itself. Braxton had upward of thirty thousand students and to Skye it seemed like at least half were meandering about. Most seemed to be hurrying to and from class but there were large groups gathered and making a lot of noise. There was an energy and activity and not for the first time she found herself wondering what her life would have been like had she found herself in a place like Braxton.

Lost in thought she wandered indirectly into a large crowd assembled around an elevated stone circle in the quad. The area was customarily used for impromptu student rallies and drives. Every day Skye passed and was accosted by demands that she save the environment, protest war or any of a hundred different worthy causes. Usually she signed and moved on. This day, though, there was an angry vibe to the crowd and most of the shouting didn't have the impassioned idealism it usually did.

"Do you feel safe?" a braided girl shouted, holding up a sign with a picture of the Hulk hefting a Bradley Tank overhead. "Who's protecting you? The Registration Act is a lie! The government can't control these freaks. We have a right to know what what's being done with them!"

"Who's protecting them?" a thin boy shouted back. "Those are people! They have rights!"

"What about our rights!?" the first woman snapped to the approval of a large portion of the restless crowd. "One of them could be standing right here, right next to us in this crowd, and we wouldn't know. These freaks can do things we can't even imagine and we have no way to protect ourselves. We have a right to be safe!"

"The government has no right to impose its will like this!"

Skye kept her head down, wishing she'd thought to bring a hood. Her face wasn't known, of course, but she knew that Shield and other agencies monitored little gatherings such as the one she was passing through and all it took was one errant camera angle and an observant analyst. Besides, she didn't want to look at the shouting students. Even the ones that were supposedly shouting on her behalf weren't doing it for her. They didn't understand anything; to them she was just a distant faceless cause to be argued over.

Every one of them were afraid of the idea of her. A person that could do… _things_. Things normal people couldn't. If they knew she was walking through the crowd, they'd either run or… worse. The internet was full of footage of mobs turning violent when a powered individual was revealed in a non controlled setting. People had died. Worse, many of the victims weren't even exceptional. They just had the misfortune of being different in a world that was growing increasingly dangerous for those who stood out.

She hated it. Ever since Miami she'd had the constant feeling that she had eyes on her; that anytime she was outside someone was watching her. It got so bad that she began checking local security cameras and doubling back on herself to try and shake something loose but nothing worked. She wanted to tell Fitz but couldn't; he was dealing with his own thing and she didn't want him worrying more than he already was. So she kept quiet and tried not to feel like she was being hunted.

Realistically she knew she was already being hunted but the last week felt different. Not a faceless agency but like an individual was following her.

"Hey you!" a hand darted out of the crowd and griped her elbow and she barely resisted the impulse to break the offender's thumb. She had to blend in. Her nerves were getting frayed, she needed to stay in control.

"What?" she muttered, not having to act annoyed.

"Sign this," the guy waving a petition at her looked like he hadn't washed his hair in weeks and had been trying to grow that sad patch of fuzz on his chin into a beard for even longer. "We want the school to cut its ties to Stark Industries in protest of his inhumane actions supporting this unconstitutional Registration Act."

Great. The guy must have just gotten out of his Poly Sci. class.

"Not interested," she shook her head, pulling away.

"If you aren't interested, you're part of the problem," he called after her, loudly. Again she resisted the urge to break a finger or two. The feeling of being watched grew so intense that she could have sworn someone was standing right behind her.

"I am the problem," she muttered, pushing into the crowd before the guy could continue to rant at her about how her unwillingness to sign his stupid petition.

Finally breaking away from the crowd she crossed the yard and spied the vividly blue food truck that set up camp daily as an alternative to the questionable cafeteria and the little coffee shop that Braxton offered. There was a short wall running alongside that truck that the students used to sit on in lieu of more traditional chairs. The food was terrible but the truck was ideally situated to serve as a meeting point as it was almost exactly in the center of the campus.

Fitz was one of the people sitting on the wall. He had a bowl of what was probably a soggy rice and old broccoli dish but wasn't eating. Instead he was staring off into space like he wasn't even aware of the dozens of people surrounding him. It was a pose she'd caught him in more than once over the last week, his brow furrowed in thought and his eyes troubled.

He wasn't talking to himself, which was a relief. The scariest part of his condition in the earliest stages had been when he started muttering to himself or carrying on conversations with thin air. He was so sharp, so clear sighted, that seeing him like that had been difficult.

This wasn't like that. Fitz's episode back in Miami had frightened them both but he'd recovered quickly. Halfway through their flight to Boston he'd been coherent again, even doing a little planning with her before falling asleep on her shoulder. Even better, he hadn't had another episode since.

The trouble was the depression that set on his slender shoulders. Fitz wasn't one to complain or even vocalize his doubts but Skye could see it weighing him down. He was worried that he was going to relapse. He was worried he'd let her down, she could see it in his eyes when he thought she was distracted. There'd be this haunted look to him, like he was watching her being carted off in chains and it was his fault.

He wanted to be well again, wanted to be the man he'd been and she had no idea how to let him know that he was fine as he was. Every time the subject had been broached it had led to a quick fight and hours of awkward silence until they'd just pretend nothing had happened and move on. It wasn't right and neither of them liked it but she had no idea how to get through to him.

She could talk to him about almost anything but there were walls up she didn't understand. It was frustrating.

Aside from the distant look, Fitz looked right at home on the campus. A backpack slung over one shoulder and his too long hair sticking out from beneath the knit cap she'd insisted he wear, he looked like the average college student. Briefly Skye found herself wishing she'd gone to the Academy. It would have been nice to have seen Fitz and Simmons before their duty to Shield began to demand sacrifices.

"Hey," she landed heavily beside him, keeping her demeanor upbeat. The trick to Fitz was to keep him busy and invested. He didn't need to know she was irritated.

"What's wrong?" he frowned.

That was the trouble with spending so much time with someone. As well as she knew him, he seemed able to see right past her attempts to fool him. She started to glibly deny anything was wrong but he snorted, clearly catching on to her diabolical plan to protect him. Giving up, she rolled her eyes and told him how she'd been caught by her boss.

"Well, I have some good news for you then," he offered her his uneaten rice and she wrinkled her nose, waving it off.

"I could definitely use some good news. Tell me."

He produced a map of the campus and unfolded it on his lap, glanced around and realized that there were plenty of people close enough to hear and scooted closer to her. She leaned in, nudging his shoulder comfortably and followed his finger as it trailed over the campus.

"I got to thinking," he said quietly. "You said that you traced the facility holding Mike and Elena to this campus. That means that it has to be underground. There's no way they could hide it above ground with so many students and faculty."

"Right, that's why I'm trying to get to the blueprints. If I can get to the originals they'll tell us which building has a substructure big enough to house that kind of installation," she reminded gently.

"Of course. But then I realized that a Shield base has certain needs. It needs power, security, access, that sort of thing. You can hide the base itself but it's much more difficult to hide the fact that a certain portion of the campus is drawing more power than it should. So I toured the campus and examined every building. Some I removed from contention because they weren't structurally sound enough or they were resting on the wrong kind of earth. Other's I managed to disqualify because the-"

"Fitz."

"I think I've narrowed it down to three locations," he got to the point. "Here, underneath the physics department. Here, beneath the gymnasium. And here."

"There's nothing there."

"No, but there is a foundation there. I did some digging and it's the sight of the old administration building before the school remodeled in the sixties. It's possible that the substructure still exists. I thought it would help you if you could narrow your search."

"Fitz, this is great," she said. "Now I'll know exactly where to look."

"It would have been more useful if I'd called a few hours ago," he frowned. "You could have been in and out before she walked in on you. I'm sorry."

"Hey, this is great work," she protested, "We're that much closer to finding them."

"Right," he nodded sullenly. "I was going to call but I.. I got distracted and I just.. I wasn't thinking."

"Fitz," she hissed. "Don't do this. I need you with me on this. I know it's… No, I can't imagine how hard this is for you. But I need you. Okay? I need you to be here with me because they need us and I can't do this alone."

He nodded slowly. Reluctantly, but he nodded. "You're right," he finally said. "Our friends need us. We need to do what we must."

"What does that mean?" she frowned, not liking the grim look he adopted.

"Let's go back to the room," he stood, tossing his uneaten bowl into the trash. "I had a few ideas today that I want to get to work on."

"That helmet again?" she sighed. ""Fitz, that can't be safe. You said yourself you don't have access to the equipment you need. And I don't like the thought of you attaching that thing to yourself."

"I've been working on solutions with the limited resources at our disposal," he explained. "I'm not there yet but… Like you said, they need us. I'll be more use to you if I'm right again. More use to everyone. I won't be a burden."

"Wait," she grabbed his arm. Fishing around for something to distract him, she blurted out. "I haven't eaten today and I can tell you haven't either. Let's go out."

"Go out?" he blinked. "We're being hunted. We can't just casually walkabout."

"It isn't healthy being cooped up so long," she argued. "When's the last time we had a meal that wasn't fast food or wrapped in plastic? Do you have any idea what it's doing to my skin?"

"Your skin?" he said slowly. "It's lovely. It always is."

"Oh," she faltered a little before regaining her momentum. "Oh, well thank you. But regardless, I need real food and as my friend you're legally required to provide it. I should know. Apparently I'm enrolled in a constitutional law class."

A smile quirked across his lips. "Well, I wouldn't want to argue with someone in a constitutional law class," he allowed. "What sort of meal?"

"I know just the place," she pounced on the glimmer of good cheer he was showing and grabbed his arm. They hadn't touched much since that strange moment back in Miami but she was determined to pull Fitz out of his funk. As far as he'd come, there was no way she was going to let him slip back because of a little stumble that was her fault anyway.

It was clear to Skye that the combination of the lights in that club and the intensity of the music had been what triggered Fitz's episode and she was carrying a seed of guilt over it. She couldn't have known but a part of her thought she should have anyway. She was supposed to be looking out for him and instead she'd led him into a situation he wasn't prepared for. Then she'd left him alone.

It was silly to feel so guilty about that; she knew he was more than capable of looking out for himself, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she'd let him down. It made her stomach turn and she had to fix it.

"What's Boston's specialty food?" He asked as she dragged him off campus and away from the still ranting crowds. "Pizza?"

"That's Chicago," she shook her head. "Keep guessing. You get it in five and I'll let you pick the movie tonight."

"We're watching a-" he began to ask, then shook his head. "Never mind, I don't care. Anything to avoid another Bridget Jones debacle."

"I-" she tried to look offended but the laugh came out regardless. "Guess."

"Barbeque?"

"Texas."

"Steak?"

"Also Texas, but you're thinking Kansas City."

"Gumbo?"

"Are you being serious?" Skye rolled her eyes. "That's four. One more and you're in a world of pain tonight."

"Seafood?" he sounded amused.

"Eh?"

He was grinning at her. "Did I ever tell you my folks brought me to Boston when I was about knee high? Best Lobster Roll ever."

Her brow furrowed. "Damn. You just swindled me," she muttered then punched him in the arm. "Fitz!"

"Hey!"

"I can't believe you did that!"

"I'm thinking a documentary. There's an interesting one that follows a woman as she explores the various knitting practices of-"

"Fitz!"

"Ow!"

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(.Scene Break.)

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.

Two hours later they were settled in at a Bistro she'd been wanting to visit and hunched over a little round table with a big seafood sampler between them. He was telling her the story of how he'd had his first kiss at the Academy but at some point had decided the story wasn't exciting enough so was telling it like some terrible spy novel. It cast Fitz as a good natured but bumbling hero and featured a series of insane obstacles complete with a janitor double agent, a villainous professor and a lovely but tragically bored young agent turning to him for protection from the horrors of advanced thermonuclear theory. Turns out Fitz had a bit of the storyteller in him after a couple of beers.

"That night she appeared at his door with tears in her eyes and her review clutched to her breast. She stared at our hero adoringly and breathed out that he'd saved her, maybe the entire world with his magnificent tutoring," Fitz regaled her grandly, leaning in and speaking in a pronounced whisper. "And that's when he knew. She'd passed! So grateful was the damsel that she hurled herself into his arms. And there, in that magical moment, lit by the light of his Chewbacca lamp and with his roommate providing the romantic soundtrack with his snoring, they shared a beautiful kiss."

"That is, until the dorm supervisor caught them and set them both to extra lessons that weekend," he finished forlornly.

Skye laughed so hard she actually snorted into her drink. "That," she took her glasses off to wipe her eyes briefly. "may be the most horrifying first kiss story I've ever heard. What did you say to her after that?"

"Turns out she needed help in biochem as well," he said drily. "I'm guessing if you were to ask Larry Hammond about his first kiss, you'd get a very similar story."

She snorted again, producing a sound that was dangerously close to a giggle. "Poor Fitz," she sighed with false sympathy. "Brokenhearted. And so young too. How did you ever recover?"

"I met Jemma a week later," he chuckled, a hint of sadness coloring his humor. "Larry was my lab partner. When he switched, I needed a new one. So it worked out for me."

"Oh, I never heard the story of how you two met," she enthused, refusing to let them slide into depression over what they'd lost. They were laughing and relaxing for the first time since Gamma fell and she wasn't letting that go without a fight.

"No no," he reached over and stole one of her clams, ignoring her half-hearted protest. "No more stalling. I told you my story. It's your turn."

"You expect me to follow that?" she shook her head. "Not a chance, mister."

"We had a deal," he teased. "Come on. I'm guessing there's some tall, handsome lad with an incredibly square jaw in this story. All broody and dark and monosyllabic."

"That's not," she began heatedly, then actually thought about the first boy she kissed and winced. "That's not… entirely true. He wasn't all that tall."

"Grace?" Alice Montgomery's smiling approach saved Fitz from yet another arm punch.

"Alice!" Skye blinked, standing as the woman smiled and waved a white haired man over.

"Donald, this is my new clerk Grace," the older woman patted her husband's hand. "And this must be the boyfriend."

"Boy-" Fitz began, but Skye kicked him subtly under the table and he caught himself, standing and shaking hands with Alice as Skye shook Donald's hand.

"Nice to meet you, sir," She smiled politely, adopting her Grace persona. "Yes, this is my boyfriend. Burt. His name is Burt."

"Yes, I'm clearly Burt," Fitz shot her a dirty look, which she returned with an intentionally adoring smile. Knitting documentary? Payback was sweet.

"I love this place," Alice gushed. "It's always so busy though."

"Do you want to join us?" Skye asked, realizing that the place was packed and the older couple would be waiting a while. "We were just-"

"She was just telling me about her new job," Fitz put in smoothly, collecting two extra seats and setting them at the table.

Alice laughed as her husband walked off to find a waitress. "We love having her. Even if she does get distracted and wander into the strangest places."

"That's my fault," Fitz chuckled, quite at home charming the older woman. "I've wanted to attend Braxton my entire life and I read all sorts of books about the campus. The steam tunnels seemed so dark and exciting. And you know Grace, she's always looking out for people."

He flashed her a smile and a wink, playing the role of doting boyfriend. She rolled her eyes but took his hand and linked their fingers, figuring if they were doing it they might as well sell it. He shot her a quick look and a wink, giving her hand a squeeze. She almost laughed when he mouthed "Burt?"

"I've been down in the tunnels, you know," Alice confided. "Twice."

"Really?" Skye asked excitedly.

That was all the opening they needed to steer the conversation toward a friendly interrogation. Once the sanctity of her beloved file room wasn't in danger Alice was only too happy to answer all their probing questions, basking in the opportunity to explain exactly how wonderful a place Braxton University was. She was a font of information, sharing stories of which Nobel Laureate lectured in which hall and what earth changing breakthroughs had been inspired in which dorm. Most of the names were beyond Skye but Fitz seemed to be following, looking impressed in the right places and asking interested questions when the conversation lagged.

What Skye took from it was that there was no way the Shield facility was underneath the gymnasium. According to Alice the gym subbasements had flooded in the nineteen nineties and been so damaged that the school was forced to overhaul everything and convert that area into new locker rooms and training facilities for the mostly ignored Braxton sports community. Alice was ready to launch into the story of how Braxton's legendary basketball team epically ended their fifty-three game losing streak when Skye managed to steer the conversation back to the verbal tour.

It ended up being a strange evening. They spent another two hours sitting there with the Montgomery's and at some point it dawned on Skye that what they were doing felt very much like a date. Even weirder, she was enjoying herself. The Montgomery's were like the favorite aunt and uncle every family should have. And Fitz was funny and interesting. She'd always known that about him but it was strangely pleasant sitting there with his fingers linked casually with hers.

What's more, she kept catching him sneaking glances at her. Not awkwardly but now and then she'd feel his eyes on her. Especially when she was toying with her glasses, a habit. That was a revelation; he'd seen dressed in everything from elegant evening wear to form fitting swimsuits. Who knew it would be the glasses and casual smart look that would get his attention so fixated on her? She made a mental note to-

Wait, why did she care what look Fitz liked on her? That was crazy. It was… it was crazy is what it was! He so wasn't her type. She'd always liked tall, broad shouldered classically handsome men. And while Fitz was good looking, he wasn't the cut in the mold of the men she usually found herself attracted too.

Besides, he was Fitz. She'd picked up on a little crush on his part years ago but had known it was wasn't serious so hadn't given any thought to it. He and Simmons had always been a thing, even before either of them had known it. Because of that she'd never thought about him in that way. She loved Simmons and a girl just didn't pouch her friend's man like that. He'd always been on the off limits list.

Still, he was her friend and it was perfectly harmless. She trusted him and wanted him to be happy. If she didn't think of him like that and seeing her looking good made him happy, what was the harm in it? She was only being a good friend, trying to help him find and keep a good mood. Wearing her glasses more often was a small price to pay to see him smiling more, wasn't it?

Honestly, it'd be selfish of her not to. She wasn't a selfish friend. Fitz deserved to smile and she deserved to have him smile at her.

It was settled then, glasses and pony tail it was. It made perfect sense.

Right?

"It's getting late," Mr. Montgomery finally said. He was a nice man, very quiet compared to his bubbly wife but with a kind soul. The parental vibe was incredibly strong with them both, right down to the way they tried to insist on paying for the meal. It was so strong that it gave her a painful twinge when she thought about it too much.

"Oh my, you're right," Alice said happily. "This was so much fun. I'll see you tomorrow, dear."

"Have a good night," Skye got to her feet to say goodbye.

To her surprise Alice leaned in and hugged her, whispering. "You know, silly me I accidentally made extra copies of the original blueprints and left them on your desk. In the morning please update the online records. After that if you were to take the copies, as a gift maybe, I doubt anyone would raise a fuss about it."

"Thank you," Skye hugged her tight for a moment.

"You and Burt are such an adorable couple," Alice beamed as her husband led her away.

"They're very nice," Fitz smiled, dropping some money on the table. He'd almost had to wrestle with Donald to get the older man to agree to let Fitz pay. "She's quite a fan of the university.

"And informative," Skye agreed. "It's either the physics lab or that empty lot."

"It's the empty lot," he said. "Didn't you hear her mention Dr. Albert experiment?"

"You mean when you almost broke our cover?" she asked dryly. Somehow she still had hold of his hand but it didn't seem like a big deal so she left it there when he tugged her toward the door. They had a cover to protect, anyway.

"The woman is a hack," he protested indignantly. "String theory? Still? Everyone with half a brain knows that-"

"Fitz, you're supposed to be an engineering undergrad, not an authority on cutting edge theoretical physics."

"Right, anyway, the equipment Dr. Albert is using draws enormous power. There's no way the grid can support those experiments and a Shield installation. People would notice."

"That's it then," she sighed in relief. "Now we just have to find it, find a way in, get past the armed guards and get our friends out of whatever super powered cells they're being held in. Piece of cake."

"We can do it," he said confidently. "You were right, Skye. We have remember that we aren't alone. We have each other and we have our friends, who need us. We won't let them down."

"We have work to do," she agreed. "Let's head back to the room."

A moment later, "Skye?"

"Fitz?"

"Burt? Seriously?"

Her laughter followed the pair as they walked off.

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(.Scene Break.)

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Alice Montgomery loved her job. For years her family had been after her adjust her schedule and lighten the work load but she enjoyed being the first one into the office every morning. Walking the halls with the images of prestigious former students gazing benevolently down on her from the walls, she always felt wonderfully centered. Like she was exactly where she belonged, doing exactly what she should be. It was nice having the place all to herself to gather her thoughts and prepare for the day.

That morning she was especially chipper. Her dinner with Grace and her boyfriend had convinced her that her instincts about people had indeed been spot on. The young woman was a dear and she'd be a fine addition to the Braxton family. Leaving those blueprints out hadn't been precisely abiding by the rules but Alice thought it was harmless. They might sneak down for a look but how much trouble could they really get into in miles of empty tunnels? Besides, it was sweet how the young couple had a shared interest, strange as that interest might be.

When she reached her office she fumbled with her keys as she did every morning. With a staff meeting approaching, she had mountain of things to accomplish and she was ready to get started. She was so distracted by her thoughts of the coming day that she never heard the quiet footsteps behind her. Similarly, she never saw the dark man emerge from the shadows to loom right behind her. It was only when a cloth was placed firmly over her mouth that she reacted, tried to scream.

It was too late, of course. Powerful arms held her securely, almost as if protecting her from injuring herself with her thrashing. Her nails dragged over the man's arms but failed to puncture the hard material of his dark sleeves, the only part of him she could see. She was forced to inhale from the damp cloth, a cloying smell filled her lungs as she tried to shriek for help.

"I have to apologize for this," a deep voice said quietly in her ear in an accent she couldn't place in her panicked state. "I know you must be frightened but if you'll stop struggling this will be much easier."

She clawed at his hand weakly, her limbs growing heavy and her body lethargic. Tears flooded her eyes until she couldn't see anything but the salty blur of the liquid. He was lying, he had to be. He was going to kill her. Hurt her.

She wanted to see her daughters. She needed to see her husband. Who was going to take care of them? She didn't want to die.

"It's fine," the voice whispered. "I promise its fine. Just let go. You'll hurt yourself if you struggle. Let go, Alice. Go to sleep."

She tried to beg. She tried to fight. He was so strong and she was so tired.

She wanted to see Donald again. He'd worry about her if she didn't come home. Her daughters… Oh god, her daughters. She had to fight.

She didn't want to die.

"Sleep, Alice."

And then all Alice Montgomery knew was darkness.


	4. Boston Part 2

Boston, Mass.

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"Oh sure, Skye," Fitz muttered under his breath. "Head down into the bowels of the earth for a quick look while you go fetch the blueprints? Of course! Trudge through the dark, rat infested, insanely hot tunnels while you sit and have a cup of tea with the nice old bird? Why not, happy to."

An enormous rat squeaked at Fitz from its perch atop a large pipe as if mocking his grumbling and urging him to make his way back to the comfort of the surface. He hurried past, not liking the angry glint in those red eyes or the way it's little hands clenched and unclenched as if anticipating feasting on Fitz when the darkness swallowed him. It wasn't the first rat he'd seen, nor the largest. The tunnels showed little sign of any human activity but there were plenty of critters scurrying about, it was like the entire substructure had been reclaimed by the myriad of hungry creatures that dwelled within.

Thankfully there was no sign of any mole people. Not yet, anyway.

He was lost and it hadn't taken him long to get that way. The night before, fresh off their talk with Alice Montgomery, it had seemed like a wonderful idea to head down to the tunnels in the early morning before campus security was on duty. That way he'd be right and ready as soon as Skye got hold of the blueprints and could guide him to where he needed to be. The trouble was he'd been down in the tunnels waiting and the wretched steam had been so severe that he'd gone to explore just to do _something._ He regretted his impatience, having gotten lost almost immediately in the labyrinthine network of sweltering passages and dead ends.

Sighing, reached into pocket and produced the prepaid cellphone they'd been using to communicate. So close to a Shield base they didn't trust their personal comms, the chance of their signal being picked up was strong enough that they'd resorted to more mundane methods of talking.

"I'm betting you're lost," Skye's voice was raspy and faint, the reception of the cheap phone being poor underground.

"Not at all," he defended. "I know exactly where I am."

Boston, he was in Boston. And underground. He knew exactly where he was.

"Mhm," she chuckled.

"If you have the plans handy, though…"

"They're here," she said. "I haven't seen Alice all morning though. I guess she's in meetings or something. Here they are. Where are you? There should be markers on the walls."

"D-67," he reported, trying to shoo yet another rat away without success. The thing hissed at him and Fitz was the one retreating from it's irritation. Filthy vermin looked like it wanted to bite him. "And I just passed F-15."

"Fitz! You're so lost," she snorted. "That's nowhere near where you went in."

"I… may have explored a bit. Can you tell me how to get there or not?"

"Yeah, give me a sec," he heard the ruffling of the blueprints as she tried to plot a course for him. "You know what to do, right? Head back toward F-15 and take the first right."

"I do," he swept his flashlight over the walls, walking in the direction Skye instructed. "I'll tap into the base's power and splice their communications so we can find out what's going on in there."

"Once you get in just attach my laptop," she added. "I've got it set to usurp their security feeds. It's going to take at least an hour so be prepared to wait. Are you okay down there?"

"I'm fine," he wiped his damp forehead again.

"Don't do anything silly down there, okay? We just need information. When we have those feeds we'll-"

"I know, Skye," he said. "No need to fuss. I'm good. My head is clear."

"That's not what I meant."

"Its fine," he sighed, not having meant to get testy with her. "I'm okay, really. Go check on Alice, I can tell you're worried. I'll let you know when I'm done."

"Talk soon," she agreed.

A half hour later he found himself walking along a line of solid steel doors, each bolted with impressive locks and labeled as both dangerous and for approved personnel only. None of the doors appeared to have seen much use recently by the amount of dirt and dust caked on them but after some examination Fitz found one that was more interesting than the others. He knelt in front of it and studied the keypad lock; all of the other doors had traditional deadbolts.

"What have we here?" he asked quietly.

It was as grimy as everything else down in the tunnels but Fitz could see that it was quality work, a randomizer feeding into a ten key code that reset itself at odd intervals. The only way to access what was inside was to produce a keycard that ran on the same sequencing generator. Obviously he didn't have that but Fitz had considered the possibility that he'd run into obstacles and come prepared. Digging into his backpack, which Skye called his bag of tricks, he produced a small electronic device. His Desequencer attached itself to the lock with a little click and began to unravel the randomized key one number at a time until it beeped loudly and the door unlocked with a click.

If he thought it was hot in the tunnels, the room was a shocking surprise. A wave of dry heat blasted him in the face as the door swung open. Heavy machinery hummed loudly and filled the small room to the point where it felt incredibly crowded to move at all. Live power-lines ran along the walls and ceiling with flashing lights near several to indicate proximity danger. Several sections were fenced off to avoid any accidental mischief. It was congested and stifling and louder than it should have been considering how quiet the tunnels had been before the door opened.

As uncomfortable as he'd been wandering in the dark, this room made him feel strangely comfortable. He'd spent many nights in such rooms tinkering and working. In his heart Fitz had always been a man interested in the practical, applied aspects of science. Theory was fine, exciting even, but a part of his soul responded to the simple act of working with his hands and creating something from nothing. This little room took him back to more peaceful times when he'd get lost in his work and only emerge when Jemma came down to collect him for a meal or to attend a class he'd forgotten.

He set his bag down and began to inspect the room. Most of what he found was exactly what it appeared to be but a few things were out of place, circuit breakers that didn't belong and secured power-lines crafted from special alloys that looked normal but he knew for a fact weren't available for public use. He followed them all to a particular box half buried in dirt and tucked into a corner so it looked like nothing more than an out of use and abandoned piece of junk among the array of more impressive machinery.

"Clever," he muttered, examining the flickering red light on the bottom corner of the box. "I see you, though."

Disabling the alarms, all four of them, took longer than it should have. It was painstaking work that required two steady hands. His left hand wasn't being cooperative, he was getting jolts of cramping pain and was forced to stop several times to steady himself before proceeding. It was maddening work that kept his teeth gritted the entire time to avoid cursing. Despite his nagging frustration he eventually got the box open and revealed a complicated mess of brightly colored wiring and advanced circuitry well beyond the scope of the humble room.

"Got you," he smirked victoriously.

After sorting it all out, he spliced into the wire and attaching it to Skye's laptop, following the specific instructions she'd demanded he follow when she'd handed over her baby. He booted the laptop and keyed it to run the program she had prepared then set it aside, making sure it wasn't near anything that would harm it.

That done he moved on to his own work, whistling under his breath. He had a lot to do before he could head back to the surface but he felt good about it. At last they were making progress.

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(...)

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"Is it ready?"

"Not yet."

"How about now?"

"I'm five minutes closer than the last time you asked, Fitz."

"Skye?"

"Fitz, if you ask me if the feeds are ready again, I'm going to choke you to death with that pillow."

He sighed restlessly from his prone position on the bed where he was cooling off from his day in the tunnels. She'd appropriated his tiny makeshift desk to work which left him with nowhere to work and nothing to do. Having tidied the room twice already he was growing more and more restless. He needed something to do to distract himself from the niggling sense of worry working its way through his stomach. They were close to finally getting to Mike and Elena back but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something. More than that he didn't want his friends imprisoned a second longer than they had to be and the anxiety of sitting idly while they suffered was driving him mad.

Skye was getting testy but pestering her was better than nothing. She was more than capable of multitasking and she looked so serious typing away chewing on her lip that he couldn't resist risking her wrath and crossing the room to loom over her shoulder. She huffed a little but allowed him to hover, seeming to get that he needed an outlet.

"Did you find Alice?" he asked after a moment.

"I spoke to the guard," she murmured over the steady clicking of the keyboard. "She left early, said she wasn't feeling well. Bad seafood maybe."

"Maybe," he agreed.

He tried not to bother her as she worked, not wanting to distract her. Idleness had never been something Fitz had enjoyed or been comfortable with, his inability to work had made his slow recovery from Ward's betrayal all the more unbearable. All those hours wasted, unable to think of anything other than what Ward had done and everything Fitz had lost as a result. Stewing in his hate and frustration with no outlet.

Both physically and mentally he'd been paralyzed and forced to relive those dark moments time and again. Fitz had saved Jemma that day but in so many ways he'd lost her as well. They'd never been the same after their time in that underwater tomb. Whatever else they might have eventually become, Fitz had lost _his_ Jemma. For that reason alone he'd never forget Ward, he'd never forgive the man.

His hand trembled slightly, a jolt of pain traveling up the nerve to his elbow as it did when he overtaxed it. Nothing terrible, just a reminder of the fact that his body hadn't ever fully recovered. It wasn't even a physical liability that he could rehabilitate. Rather the parts of his brain that controlled motor function were compromised, the cells damaged or dead. It was just one of a dozen different ways he was reminded every day of the fact that he wasn't what he'd once been, that the life he'd always imagined for himself was gone.

He thought maybe that's why he understood Skye so well. She'd had everything ripped from her, been morphed into something new and terrifying. After that change she'd been left to stumble around trying to find answers to questions she barely understood. Despite it all, Skye persevered. She was strong. As much as she wanted to run, and he could see that need in her sometimes, she was still there beside him because something inside of her demanded that she carry forward.

She inspired him. It was a simple and inarguable truth. Even more than the other members of their strange little family, Skye was the one that made him feel like he was on the right team. He loved and respected each of them but they all had their strengths and training to lean on. They'd been honed and prepared, focused and directed until they were suitable instruments of Nick Fury's S.H.I.E.L.D. Even Fitz had spent years at the Academy working with the finest minds on the planet to sculpt his own intelligence into a useful and viable asset.

Not Skye, though. She was just a girl that had been plucked from the comfortable shelter of the shadowed corners of the internet and had a destiny thrust upon her. Her training was haphazard and incomplete both as an agent as an Inhuman. She hadn't been indoctrinated or guided to the path she walked. She fought because her heart told her that what they fought for was worth all the sacrifice and pain she'd been forced to endure. When he felt most lost, he found himself thinking about her and it motivated him to get back up and try a little harder.

Someday he'd have to thank her. He wanted to but he wasn't certain how to approach the conversation without making an ass of himself. He was reluctant to allow himself to appear any more vulnerable than he already seemed to her. Skye already knew he was damaged; he didn't want her thinking he was silly as well.

"Fitz," Skye murmured reprovingly.

With his thoughts wandering he'd somehow managed to lean closer to Skye than he'd intended, close enough that he could feel the heat coming off the back of her neck and bare shoulder. She was only wearing a tank top and he could see an expanse of exposed skin along her arm and shoulder covered in tiny goosebumps like she was cold. She wasn't looking at him but he could tell that she was aware of how close he was by the way she sat perfectly still save for the slight stuttering in her rhythmic typing.

Fitz had always found Skye's skin fascinating. The light olive tone and smooth delicacy that made her seem so soft. There was something about her shoulders that he found particularly appealing. There was sinewy muscle showing off an athletic tone she maintained with her rigorous training, a strange counterpoint to the silky quality of the shoulder itself. Her shoulders were a perfect balance of femininity and strength that was hard not to notice.

It was more than just the muscle and flesh though, more than the attractive shape of her neck and arms. More than the exoticly dark eyes or the other parts of her that he sometimes had to work hard not to pay attention to. There was an undefinable quality that kept him staring, like the complexity of all the pieces of her that made the sum that was Skye was a puzzle he couldn't quite solve.

He found himself fixating on the vein running up the side of her neck. Just below the skin, it ran elegantly upwards along her throat, providing a visual tour of the curve and gentle slope just below her jaw. It was graceful in a queer way, a slender line of blue just beneath the tanned flesh flowing with her lifeblood and running and connecting her her heart and mind.

 _Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump._

He watched it pulse, unaware of the fact that he was still leaning in and invading her personal space. The vein thumped slightly, a little twitch every time her heart beat. She had a strong heart. Steady and true, like the woman herself.

Then he realized something odd.

Her heart was beating faster than it should.

 _She's nervous,_ he realized with surprise. _Is that because of me?_

It was perverse, but he felt a stirring of something pleasurable at the thought. Skye had always been so casual around him, so perfectly comfortable. The thought that he made her feel something else, that he wasn't just the smart friend she could lean on, was… nice. It was more than nice. The thought that he even had the capability to make her nervous was enough to make Fitz momentarily brazen. It made him want to push just a little. It made him want to see what would happen.

Fitz tilted his head down so his lips were only inches from her and blew ever so gently on the back of her neck, watching the wisp of hair that had escaped her ponytail dance in response. The goosebumps that had already been reacted instantly and grew more pronounced, that single stray lock gliding effortlessly over them as a teasing caress along with his breath.

Skye shivered. Fitz never would have noticed it if he weren't so close that he could almost feel her back against chest but that's exactly what happened. A tickle danced down her spine and she shook almost imperceptibly when she felt his teasing breath. Outwardly she was unmoved, she still didn't turn and gave no outward reaction that she'd even noticed his actions. That vein was pounding though, he watched it throbbing like a blaring alarm and he wondered oddly why he suddenly felt so lightheaded.

The urge to cross the remaining distance and brush his lips over that spot was so strong that he felt dizzy, almost drunk. The thought of touching her like that was new and foreign. Even when he'd had his silly crush he'd never actually thought about her in that way. It was just an infatuation because she was smart and pretty and different.

This wasn't like that at all. This felt visceral and immediate and uncomfortably dangerous.

 _I wonder what she'd do if I ran my tongue over that spot,_ he thought dazedly, leaning forward despite the voice in the back of his head shouting for him to slow down. _I wonder what her skin tastes like. She smells… delectable._

"I'm in!" Skye said suddenly, shocking him out of his spell and making him bolt upright, even retreating a few steps.

An awkward silence followed, neither of them quite sure how to react. Fitz knew he was flushed, whatever strange courage had taken hold of him was gone just as fast. For her part, Skye turned to face him finally and he could see the hint of color on her cheeks just beneath her glasses. That was nice, she had them on again. Usually she only wore them occasionally when her contacts were… He was getting off track. He needed to focus.

"You're in?" he asked dumbly.

"I'm in," she nodded, just looking at him. It was like she'd never seen him before, the way she was staring. His eyes locked on hers and he found himself unable to look away. There was something in her gaze... Was she licking her lips?

"The base!" he realized, shocking them both out of their staring contest. "You got into the feeds!"

"That's right, have a look," Skye said brightly, suddenly bursting with brisk energy and direction. She nearly masked the half glazed look in her eyes or the still fresh flush of color in her face and neck. Half turning to her computer like she was inviting him to come closer, she paused mid turn and gave him an uncertain look. "On second thought, I'll run the images up to the TV."

"That's… Right," he nodded. He started to sit back on the bed but thought better of it, going to perch against the wall as far from her as possible. They had to focus. They had a job to do. He'd been… he'd been mad, that was all there was to it. A momentary lapse in judgment brought on by exposure to all those ghastly fumes in those tunnels.

She turned the TV on and a second later the old Wheel of Fortune rerun was replaced by an image of an empty hallway. Fitz recognized the markings on the wall as belonging to a Shield facility. That image was replaced by an empty room then changed again to an office with a woman working at a desk. Skye scrolled from feed to feed as she checked every security camera the base had to offer. The base was oddly light on staff but they managed to get a good idea of the dimensions and layout as she worked.

"Not much security," Skye muttered. "I only count four armed guards."

"See those doors?" Fitz pointed at one of the exits. "They're charged. Deadly. That lock is cutting edge biometric. I think I can find a work around but it will take time."

"Let's see what else. There's got to be more than one entry point."

"Wait, isn't that Quell?" he pointed as Skye stopped scrolling through the images.

Two men in white coats were standing in the center of the lab talking but behind them in a reclined chair was a woman. It was Elena dressed in dark gray prisoner garments and with her hands bound to the arm rests like she was undergoing an examination. There was a miserable looking mask covering her mouth and nose, a muzzle of some kind that was clearly designed to contain her ability. It looked awful and intrusive and though they couldn't make out her features, Elena was radiating discomfort and tension.

"Bastards," Skye growled. "Do you see Mike?"

"No, keep scrolling," Fitz sighed, hating seeing Elena like that. The woman was a friend and he couldn't help but feel a flash of guilt over the fact that she'd been suffering with that monstrosity on her face while he had the most absurd thoughts about Skye like some fool schoolboy. What had he been thinking?

"There he is," Skye said a moment later. Deathlok was standing in the middle of a cell, an electric blue fence surrounding him on all four sides. It made sense, the man was strong enough to punch through most walls but that electric gating would do terrible things to his cybernetics if he even touched them. "Fitz, what's that they have on him?"

"It's a harness," Fitz said with a sinking feeling. Mike had a metallic contraption on his chest, a bulky and imposing device that looked just as uncomfortable and constricting as Elena's muzzle. "I had some input on the designed a few years back. It's there to counteract his strength. We have a problem. There's no way we can get him out of there with that thing attached. Not only can they track it but it's equipped with a dosage of dendrotoxin that will put Mike down the second it's tampered with. Neither of us can possibly carry him out if he's unconscious."

"So you'll walk me through removing it," Skye said, but Fitz shook his head.

"It's delicate," he muttered. "I'm going to have to go in with you. I know we agreed that I would be your eyes when you infiltrated but this changes things. You won't get him out of there without me."

"We'll figure this out," she sighed. "Come sit down, Fitz. This is going to take a while."

.

(...)

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"Sir, we've detected a breech in our internal security exactly as you warned. It's very subtle. We wouldn't have detected the intrusion at all if we hadn't been looking specifically for it."

"And the prisoners?"

"All priority detainees have been removed from site except the two you ordered remain. Sir, if an attack is coming shouldn't we…?"

"Reduce the staff to a skeleton crew and have all essential personal take the next few days off."

"Yes, sir."

"And Mrs. Montgomery?"

"She's being treated per your instructions. She'll be ready."

"Excellent. Dismissed, agent."

"Yes, sir."


	5. Boston Part 3

A.N. Apologies for the delay. Busy summer is making it tough to find free time to write. Here's the next installment though. Hope you guys like it.

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Boston Part 3

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"Behind you!" Fitz warned her, his voice urgent in her earpiece. Instinctively she dropped and rolled, her movement barely taking her clear of the heavy fist that would have caught her otherwise. She kicked out and was rewarded with the solid impact of her heel connecting with someone's knee. A man grunted in pain, buying her precious time.

Unfortunately she was facing trained Shield security personnel and he didn't collapse or fall back from her sharp kick as she'd hoped. He lashed out again and she was barely able to roll away before his fist crashed down on the hard floor she'd occupied. Even having escaped the blow she came away with an ache in her back where his blow grazed her.

"Two of you?" She grumbled as she returned to her feet and found herself facing two big men blocking the long corridor leading to the deeper parts of the . "Really?"

"Give it up," Tall Redhead Guy said grimly. He had a heavy baton in hand and had given up trying to radio for help. He must have figured out they their signal was being jammed. It was just dumb luck that his friend had stumbled on them.

"Sorry," Fitz muttered in her ear. "He must have heard you tussling and come running. I thought he was on the lower floor."

"You've got no chance," Short Angry Guy added, shaking his leg to ease the pain her kick had caused to his knee. He had no baton but by the way he held himself he was a brawler. Skye had already seen firsthand that he was faster than his bulky frame suggested.

"There are two others at the other end of the complex," Fitz reported in her ear. "I just locked them inside the cafeteria. These two are the only security left to deal with, Skye."

"Simple then," she rolled her eyes then turned a winning smile toward the two guards. "We can talk about this, right? I'm just looking for the computer lab. This is intro to computer science, right?"

The two men glanced at each other and started forward but she held up a hand to stall them. "Wait! Guys, we're on the same side. I'm a Shield agent too."

"We know who you are," Short Angry Guy rumbled. "Come peacefully, Agent Skye. The new Director wants a word with you."

"And who would that be? I've been out of touch, on assignment," Skye took a step back, then another. They had a plan in place even if Fitz was taking his sweet time. "Anytime now."

"I need a moment," Fitz said quickly in her ear, sounding like he was rushing. "Stall."

"I am," she grumbled, then realized the two guards were looking at her strangely. They seemed to be catching that she was talking to someone under her breath. "Seriously guys, who's the new Director? Must be a brave soul after what Cap said on the news. I wouldn't want that man mad at me. Who is it? If it's someone I trust, maybe I'll come in peacefully."

"You'll find out soon enough," Tall Redhead pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "Put your hands on that wall."

"Get ready," Fitz said just as Skye was seriously considering turning and running. "Now!"

It all happened at once. Both men charged her and she threw herself to the side, rolling out of their way just as Fitz killed the lights went out and left them all in pitch darkness. Out of immediate danger she reached into her jacket and produced a pair of sunglasses, which she slipped on. Her vision cleared immediately as the night-vision element flickered in response to the lack of light. The two guards were stumbling about in the dark trying to get their bearings while she got herself set.

Skye seized her opportunity, rushing in and slamming her fist into Tall Redhead's jaw. Unprepared, the big man was staggered and Skye used his temporary distraction to her advantage. All those endless hours training with Ward and May took hold of her, guiding her in a gracefully violent dance of short, compact blows. The solar plexus, the hip, the knee and then the back of the head all received a flurry of kicks and elbows that left the lanky man lying face down on the hard floor.

On to Short Angry Guy, who was reacting quicker than she would have liked. She was on him, slamming a knee into his stomach but he managed to grab hold of her. Her arm was wrenched when she tried to get out of his reach, his powerful hands tightening painfully as he jerked her close. They grappled, his great strength being negated somewhat by her agility. She quickly found herself wrapped in a bone-crushing bear-hug and her breath exploded from her lungs in response.

Gasping, she brought her hands to his face and dug her thumbs into his eyes. He screamed in pain and the pressure on her ribs lessoned, allowing her squirm until she could smash her forehead into his nose. Blood spurted out, covering her face and glasses and taking away her ability to see. Knowing she had to act quickly she brought her knee up into his groin. When he doubled over in pain she broke free. Her hands fumbled until they found the back of his head she wrenched down, guided it to meet her rising knee.

Just like that it was over. Where there had been three people standing in that sterile hallway there was now one. Skye wiped at her eyes to try and clear them but the glasses were ruined so she tossed them away.

"Its okay, Fitz," she said, taking a deep breath to clear her lungs. The lights flickered on immediately.

"Are you okay? Is that blood? That's all of the guards I can see on the security feeds," he said briskly, a touch of relief in his voice when he found her standing alone.

"I'm okay," she assured him. "It's not mine."

"Fantastic," he exhaled. "Okay, it's time. I'm heading down into the lab, Skye."

"Are you sure about this?" she hesitated, really not liking the idea of Fitz walking into this lab. Having him in her ear was helpful and efficient; she was sure he could talk her through getting Mike out of that awful harness. "This doesn't feel right."

"This may be our only chance," he argued. "It has to be this way. You go get Quell and I'll head to the lower level and get Deathlok. The entire lab is empty, Skye. We can do this."

"Empty that we know of," she mumbled, quickly binding the hands of the two unconscious guards. "There could be areas we missed. We had to rush."

"We have to hurry, Skye. We have no idea what kind of response protocols are in place. Go, I'll meet you soon. You owe me a beer, remember."

"Yeah yeah," she huffed. "I just wish we could keep comms open."

"It doesn't work like that. As soon as I leave this room we'll lose access to our signal amplifier and be as cut off as the rest of the lab. It's the only way to make sure no reinforcements were called. We can't afford to get trapped here."

"Fine, just be careful. I'll see you and Mike in thirty minutes. Thirty minutes, Fitz! If I don't hear from you by then I'm coming after you."

"Same to you," he agreed, then hesitated. "Watch yourself, Skye. I need you to be okay."

He was gone with a static clicking sound and she huffed again, annoyed. What annoyed her wasn't clear; she had no idea what she would have said in response. She needed him to be okay too. It was true but the saying it would have felt incomplete. Or perhaps too complete. Whatever the case she would have liked to have said _something_.

"Not the time," she muttered, leaving the guards behind and making her way through the abandoned base.

They'd waited until midnight to begin their incursion specifically to avoid running into to many staff. Even so the installation was much emptier than she'd expected. It was a prison, after all. Six armed guards wasn't insignificant but it wasn't close to the security a facility housing these kind of prisoners should have had. The entire situation gave her a bad feeling but things had run so smoothly that she really couldn't offer up anything realistic to be concerned about. She couldn't call off their only chance to get Mike and Elena out purely on an uncertain quiver of doubt running down her spin.

She consulted the rough map they'd prepared as she navigated. She passed several storage areas, including one door she recognized as a secure arms locker. Eventually she found herself in the cell block, only one of which was occupied. There was no hint that anyone worked there.

"Elena?" Skye asked, tapping on the glass door when she saw her friend laying on her back inside the secure room. The woman stirred groggily and shifted her head to look Skye's way but her eyes were glassy and uncomprehending. She still had that terrible muzzle covering her mouth, an ugly thing of black leather marked with a white serial number. It looked like something out of a horror flick, not a medical restraint. "Hold on, I'm going to get you out of there."

The door opened when she used the keycard she'd retrieved from one of the downed guards. Elena was clearly drugged, barely responding when Skye moved to her side and began unbinding her wrists and ankles which were cruelly strapped to the bed. It was only when her hands were free that she seemed to have some glimmer of recognizing Skye, a hand lifting in hazy recognition.

"It's going to be okay," Skye assured her, working on getting the muzzle off as Elena slowly pushed herself up. "We're going to get you out of here."

"Mike?" Elena slurred when she was finally free. She winced, confused and in pain. She stretched her jaw wide to try and loosen it. "Skye?"

"Fitz is getting him," Skye assured her, noticing how concerned the woman looked. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," Elena rasped, her voice raw from lack of use. "I… what are you doing here? You shouldn't be here."

"We wouldn't leave you," Skye looked around as she tried to get the woman on her feet. "What are _you_ doing here? We thought you were getting out of the country."

"We tried. We were in Caracas when…," Elena mumbled, leaning heavily. "You have to get Mike. He's… they're hurting him."

"Let's get you out of here first," Skye insisted, not liking how sedated Elena was. The woman seemed ready to fall back asleep any second.

"They were talking about you," Elena slumped deliriously against Skye's shoulder when the younger woman finally got them both standing. She had a number of small cuts on her neck and throat, all carefully stitched to offer minimal scarring once healed. She'd clearly been operated on recently, maybe more than once.

Skye tried not to think about the fact that it was Shield personnel that had done those things to Elena. The fact that the organization she'd chosen to be her family, her anchor, was responsible for this kind of inhumane cruelty raised questions she wasn't prepared to face.

She needed Shield to be true. She desperately needed for some part of the organization to be the pillar of justice and protection it purported itself to be. If Shield was a lie than all she'd endured might have been for nothing. Had she lost her family, her life, her future all for an agency that would casually turn on anyone they viewed as potentially dangerous or simply different?

"What?" she asked, trying not to stare at Elena's scarred throat.

"Said someone was coming," Elena mumbled, drooling into Skye's shoulder. It was slow going with the taller woman's weight on her but she didn't have far to go, really. Skye just had to get Elena out of the base and into the secure room they'd prepared then she could go make sure Mike and Fitz were okay. He was probably getting himself into all sorts of trouble, damn him. "Moved the other prisoners."

"Wait, what?" Skye frowned, Elena's words finally registering. The empty lab, the lack of security… She reached for the gun strapped to her thigh just as two armed men rushed into the room and fanned out to flank her. The both had weapons raised and aimed at her, sleek guns that looked like they were loaded with a chemical dart of some kind. Behind them a third man walked calmly into the room.

"I believe," the man said politely, his cultured tone laced with an accent she vaguely recognized as being South African. "That she's trying to warn you that you've walked into a trap, Agent Skye."

He was a good looking man, tall and dark with deep chocolate eyes and a thin smile that barely revealed a line of perfectly white teeth behind a well-manicured beard. Dressed in a very nice suit he managed to look quite dashing while still revealing hints of an athletic frame beneath. Even walking casually, she recognized the disciplined power in his step, the hallmark of the very best operatives. Ward, May, Bobbi, they could all blend in like magic but that cultured wolf-like grace and poised control they each possessed wasn't something that could be easily disguised. This man moved like they did.

"You're the one that's been following me," she said flatly, glancing at the man's guards. The two men were spread far apart so she was facing the operative and had an armed threat in the corner of both eyes. She helped Elena into a nearby chair despite her incoherent protests, trying to get the helpless woman out of the line of fire.

"Sebastian," the man introduced himself with a smile. "And you are Skye, Also known as Daisy Johnson. Your friend downstairs is Leopold Fitz. I have to congratulate you both, it was more difficult to corner you two than I'd anticipated."

"Well, we aim to please," Skye said drily, leaving her weapon in its holster. There was no cover; if she got into a firefight fight she'd lose. "So is this the part where you tell me to surrender or else? Cause I have to tell you, that didn't work out so well for the last guy."

The man exhaled quietly, almost regretfully. "I'm afraid not, Skye. You don't mind that I call you Skye, do you? Miss Johnson seems so formal and I feel like I know you already. Besides, I imagine Miss Johnson feels foreign. You were really only able to use the name for a short time, no?"

"My name is Skye," she muttered darkly, annoyed. Daisy Johnson was… someone she never got the chance to be. It was a sore subject and she didn't appreciate it being brought up. "If not surrender than what? Let me guess, you're Hydra? This trick has been played already, you know."

"A good guess," he smiled, walking into the room with an air of nonchalance to bend over a desk as if looking for something. "But I'm afraid not. It's almost a shame, really. Hydra's decided to become interesting recently. The organization used to be dreadfully dim and predictable. World domination, hurray. Evil plans a plotting, huzzah. The new leadership seems to be taking a different approach, though. Their new shot caller is well trained, whoever he is. You wouldn't happen to know him would you? Tall bloke, ruggedly handsome. The kind of fellow a trusting soul might be fooled into caring for if they weren't careful."

"Are we playing twenty questions?" Skye demanded, not liking the knowing tone or the amused quirk of his lips. She could feel her power stirring inside, a buzzing just beneath her skin waiting to be acknowledged. It was more than just a stirring; Skye wanted to use it. Whoever this Sebastian was, he was already under her skin. She really didn't appreciate feeling like they were playing a game where he knew the rules and she didn't. Bastard, why did he have to bring up Ward? "Who do you work for?"

"Technically I work for Shield just as you do. The reality is a bit more complicated, of course. Let's say that I take my directives from a concerned third party," Sebastian picked up a small remote that had been sitting on top of the inbox container of the cluttered desk. "Ah, here we are. Hidden in plain sight. Ironic."

Elena was stirring, at least. Maybe if Skye stalled long enough Elena could get her bearings. The two of them together could handle this. She had to get a sense of what danger Sebastian posed. Why wasn't he armed? "Third party? Let me guess, you belong to the militant wing of the Candy Stripers Union? You're here because this prison uses local volunteers from the college instead of teamsters to clean the bedpans."

"Very clever," he smirked, turning to a monitor and turning it on with the remote. "I do love a woman with the ability to quip in the face of disaster. It's very trendy. You'll want to watch this, though. You must be concerned about your team leader."

The television switched to looping news coverage of a recent incident shot from a hovering helicopter. It showed a small town that looked to be out in the desert somewhere. What was left of the town, anyway. It was a complete warzone, most of the buildings were on fire and the streets were a patchwork of charred craters and blackened husks of cars.

A squadron of flying robots was swarming the skyline overhead raining fire and destruction down on its smoky streets. Directing the robots was one of Iron Man's chief allies in this crazy conflict, the one called War Machine. Streaking just above the fighting, his gleaming metal suit was blindingly brilliant in the noon sun.

The iron suited man pointed at something in the ruined town below and a flurry of small missiles fired from his forearm, smashing into the earth. In response to War Machine's command the circling robots opened fire as well. Though there was no sound Skye could almost hear the sound of that little town being wracked by force and fire.

In the midst of those explosions a group of people scattered from their cover among the rubble. Almost a dozen dark clad men and women dressed in dark combat fatigues spread out in as many directions with several of them being caught in the flurry of incoming fire. Bodies were hurled into the air where they impacted with devastating force against nearby walls and patches of road. Where those fell, they moved no more.

The robots weren't the only ones delivering punishment. Several dozen people in the town sent a volley of small arms fire and rockets lancing up into the air and several of War Machine's minion robots exploded as they came in for a second attack run. More people emerged from the shattered buildings the battle escalated quickly into a violent firestorm. There wasn't any evidence of citizens at all, everyone on the muted screen was actively participating in the pitched battle.

"Ah there we are," Sebastian commented. "A familiar face."

A thick pack of defenders dug in at a machine gun position was targeted by a trio of attacking robots. They swooped in and looked ready to destroy the entrenched crew when an arrow flashed up from a nearby rooftop and the struck the lead robot. It burst into flames and careened off taking out one of its companions in the process leaving the last to be riddled with a flurry from the machine gun position. Amidst the destruction Hawkeye stood scanning the sky for another target.

War Machine spotted Hawkeye as soon as the man revealed himself and the two locked themselves into a dynamic battle that had the iron suited man chasing Hawkeye over the rooftops while dodging a flurry of arrows. They were so engrossed in their personal confrontation that neither of them seemed to notice the approach of one of War Machine's automated fleet. It zeroed in on Hawkeye, a flamethrower firing up and roasting the entire rooftop the man was sprinting across. Hawkeye disappeared by leaping off the roof and out of the camera's view with War Machine diving in pursuit.

The robot moved to follow as well but another figure emerged from the street below. Melinda May was dressed in black combat fatigues and had a massive launcher on her shoulder. She took aim and fired just as the robot passed overhead and the missile smashed into its chest, destroying it completely. A second later Coulson was there dragging May into a building as the attacking force targeted her with a flurry of retaliatory fire. The missiles smashed into the building they took cover in and an entire section of it collapsed in a fiery explosion.

"No!"

"Good," Sebastian sounded pleased. He clicked the remote and the feed cut off before Skye could determine whether her mentors were okay or even alive. "I think that's enough."

"Put it back on!" Skye demanded, taking an angry step toward the man. She stopped when the guards lifted their weapons pointedly. "Now!"

"Worried?" Sebastian nodded knowingly. "With good cause. This is a recording, of course. The event took place yesterday. What were you doing yesterday, Skye? While your friends were fighting for their lives, where were you?"

"I was…," Skye faltered, her emotions rolling uncertainly. She was working on getting Elena and Mike free. Exactly as she should have been doing. Right? Why was she feeling waves of guilt, then? "What are you doing?"

"I'm just curious," Sebastian admitted. "The world is falling apart. The Avengers are tearing each other apart. Your people are caught in the middle of it. You could help. You could make a difference. I know what you can do. Don't you think that they needed you there with them? They could be dead, Skye. Agent May. Agent Coulson. They could be dead right now. They probably are."

Emotional control was an integral feature of Skye's life. Her training with Shield and the Inhumans along with everything she'd learned since had led her to the inarguable fact that she needed to be centered. If she wanted control over her life and her power the only path she could walk was one of balance and self-control. To lose that discipline was to lose her grip on the reigns of her present and her future. This was a fact she held dear, a truth she depended on to make sense of the world when it got insane.

It was a shock when she felt that control slipping. Watching May and Coulson in danger wasn't new; their lives were filled with risk and she'd seen them escape the worst possible situations. Skye should have been calm. Somehow in the moment Skye was sure that she'd failed them, though. She hadn't been there to look out for them and they were hurting or dead because of it. She was certain of it, as certain as she'd ever been of anything.

It was something that had always worried her even if she never voiced the concern. Her people were all normal. Trained, brilliant and prepared, but normal. She was the one with powers. That meant she had to be the one to look out for them. Even indestructible Melinda May and inscrutable Phil Coulson were subject to the powers of those beyond their ken. They needed her. She owed them that.

Alarmingly, she felt a tear welling in her eye and wiped at it angrily. Sebastian was watching her with interest, his head cocked slightly as if curious about her reaction. She scowled back, almost quivering with the sudden conflict inside. Her anger with him and the undefined feelings of guilt she had about the others had her almost dizzy.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, her voice suddenly hoarse because her throat was dry and tight. His voice was quiet and seemed to draw her in with an almost hypnotic quality. It was hard to focus on anything but his prodding words or the emotions they were stirring.

"Shield wasn't sure about Mockingbird, you know," he smiled sadly. "She has supporters in the organization, even now. Enough people wanted to believe in her that she was offered a way in to continue to be on the right team. They wanted to believe she was loyal. They did believe it."

"No," Skye said.

"They believed it until Hunter reached out to you," Sebastian sighed, clicking the remote again. "Now see what you've done. I had a lot of trouble getting this footage; I hope you appreciate it."

The screen became a black and white image of a nondescript room, one that might have been any warehouse in the world. Bobbi was inside talking to a heavyset man like she was interrogating him. Almost immediately masked figures emerged from the shadows and attacked her. She instinctively dropped the first one that attacked her but there were too many and she was overpowered. A bag quickly found its way over her head. One of the attackers produced a needle and injected something into Mockingbird's neck.

"If it weren't for you," Sebastian said sadly, turning off the television. "Mockingbird would still be free. You needed her so she risked her cover to help you and got caught because of it. What's become of her, Skye? What's going to become of your cause without her? She might have been the difference between survival and that… other thing. That's on you. That's your fault."

"No," Skye said uncertainly. That wasn't true, was it? She'd been careful. So very careful. Was Bobbi dead too? Was she in a dark prison somewhere? Where was Hunter?

More tears were forming and Skye screwed her features up to fight them. What was wrong with her? She was stronger than this. Better trained than this. The emotions were rolling inside her like an angry surf. She was incensed and worried sick and wracked with guilt. Those were the most prevalent but not the only ones stirring inside, some were so vague she couldn't begin to define them. Every emotion was conflicting and fighting for dominance, leaving her feeling more and more like she was being swept along for the ride.

The room shook slightly in response to her uncertain emotional state. A shimmy along the walls and the subtle adjustment of the desks showed the local response to the vibrations her cells were producing. Her eyes fell on a water dispenser in the corner, fixated on the way the surface of the water inside the large jug was quivering in anticipation, like it was preparing for something to come.

"And then there's your young fellow," Sebastian motioned to the guards and they lowered their weapons slowly. It was time to act; Skye knew it. The man thought he had her and she needed to take advantage of his overconfidence. She was going to do it just as soon as… wait, what was he saying about Fitz? "Such a loyal lad. Have you even considered what he might be going through right now? What surprise I might have arranged for him?"

She had to act. She _had_ to. Fitz needed her.

That thought had been ringing in her head since Sebastian had appeared. The dark man had obviously known they were coming which meant Fitz was in danger. She had to take Elena and go. She had to act.

She couldn't, though. No matter how much her mind raged and urged her body to move, Skye just stood there. The room shook again and she found herself more and more focused on trying to contain her ability. There were actual tears running down her cheeks, a torrent of grief and fear mixing into a cocktail of negative energy that made her want to huddle into a ball and wail. She found herself slumped over a nearby desk, her knees weakening by the second.

"Skye," Elena mumbled distantly.

"Don't you think it's time you put an end to this, Skye?" Sebastian asked gently. "So many people have been hurt due to your decisions and your failures. Give up now before Fitz gets hurt too. Aren't you tired of hurting the people you love?"

"I'd never hurt Fitz," Skye said dully. "What are you doing to me? You're…"

"Different? Special?" he quirked a brow. "Oh yes, I am. We have that in common."

"If you're like me, how can you help them? Why…"

"Everything will be clear very soon, Skye. I promise. I have plans for you. Now I think it's time that we put an end to this. You'll have to believe me, you don't want to struggle any harder. I can make things very uncomfortable for you. I don't want to but I will if I must."

"Screw you," she tried to scowl but it came out as more whimper than growl. She was nearly doubled over with the intensity of her emotions. "Stop this. You have to stop."

The room shook violently and Sebastian finally noticed. He looked around with interest, like he was curious to see her ability at work. "Put your weapon down and your hands on your head, Skye. This ends when you give up. Think about Fitz. He may not have much time left. How will you feel if Fitz dies because you hesitated?"

It was like they were playing emotional chicken. Whatever Sebastian was, he seemed able to manipulate her emotions, amplify them to a volatile extreme. He was pushing her to the breaking point, pushing her so hard that she was shaking with the struggle to simply keep from breaking down.

She tried everything she could think of to maintain her equilibrium, from May's stoic insistency on absolute control to Coulson's understated ability to maintain perspective in the most unusual situations. Unfortunately everything she tried reminded her of the people that had taught her those things. Each attempt only made her emotions all the more tumultuous.

She'd been holding, somehow. Some well of strength in her core helped her keep a tenuous grasp on herself. Every button Sebastian pushed was a test, one that she weathered and endured. First her name, then goading her by mentioning Ward, then showing her the dangerous situation May and Coulson were in; all of it was designed to push her off balance.

She had to hold on, give Elena time to recover. Give Fitz a chance to get Mike free. Give Sebastian a chance to let his guard slip, just an inch. Then she'd act. She'd find a way to turn the tide. She kept repeating those thoughts and somehow she kept herself under control.

When Sebastian mentioned the obvious danger Fitz was in, something clicked inside Skye. She thought of him in the dark with no one to watch his back and something twisted inside her. An image of him bruised and battered on a cold floor slipped into her thoughts. She imagined him in pain, crying out to her for help and her stomach wrenched. In the back of her throat a guttural sound emerged and what little restraint she had remaining evaporated.

This is where Sebastian had miscalculated. He smiled as he mentioned Fitz, clearly understanding that he'd scored a telling blow to her psyche. His eyes gleamed with anticipation, like he'd spent the entire conversation waiting for her overburdened mind to collapse and for her body to follow. He expected her to crumple in on herself, to break down into a blubbering mass of conflict and pain as others obviously had.

That isn't what he got, though. Skye had been through too much to be broken even by her own pain and doubt. When the damn broke she was swept along with it instead of being buried beneath. It boiled inside, it swelled and billowed and she accepted it.

Then it erupted.

Her power flared and suddenly her entire body was alive with energy and purpose. Skye's body had been made specifically for this reason, to do this one thing. She'd fought it, tried to restrain it and control it but the truth was she was made to use the power inside.

The room began to shake. Not just the room but the prison beyond and the school above it. Even the city beyond all of those reacted to the release of her power. Boston began to shake as if the end of the world had finally arrived.

She'd been born Daisy Johnson. She'd spent most of her young life being the hacktivist Skye. Eventually she'd chosen to become Agent Skye. The young woman that threw back her head and began to scream as the torrent of raw unadulterated power exploded out of her was all of those and more. Orphan, loner, idealistic freedom fighter, agent, she was all of these things coalescing into a creature of power and rage.

She was Quake and her enemies would know her anger.


End file.
